Fear of a Nation
by RoxannaNova
Summary: Urban Legends, personal fears, demons from he past- what will happen when the nations are forced to confront and overcome their worst fear under the influence of a hallucinogen inspired by Divergent?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Hetalia. I just play with it. Anyway, if you have a particular nation you want to see in this fanfiction, please PM me or comment. On to the story!**

* * *

**The Fear of a Nation**

Year: 2094

This meeting was not quite like any other that had every been called before. That's because it concerned EVERYBODY. Everyone, from Japan to Austria to even Mexico was deeply afraid.

America, obviously, was afraid too, but good luck getting him to admit it.

Germany cleared his throat. "I'm sure everyone's heard our situation, but I'll just repeat it so we're all on the same page: an American, a Japanese, and a Czech scientist collaborated to create a machine that makes our worst fears tangible in a reality all our own in hopes of finding a way to conquer those fears. We will ALL have our turns with this machine. There are no exceptions, substitutions, or postpones. Clear?"

Britain raised his hand. "How exactly does this all work?"

"You're aware of those virtual- reality games?" Germany inquired. All the nations nodded their heads yes. "It works much on that principle. Your mind will be transported to a reality where it is you, your abilities, and your worst fears. There will be one stage of this. The machine will not be turned off until you have conquered your fears." "When will this start?" Mexico asked. "It begins next Sunday. Russia will be going first." The other nations shifted or glanced at each other nervously. "You will not know when you are going or the order of events until it is your turn. Not even I am privy to that information," Germany finished regretfully.

"Germany-san, could you clarify what "worst fear" entails?" Japan requested carefully. "They said it would be a myth or legend from our culture, like a movie or urban legend, or a personal fear we have from our past experiences," Germany said. America and Japan both visibly paled. England could tell America was imagining a Slender- Man scenario or perhaps a Paranormal Activity type thing. He wondered what would happen when his turn came along. What about France? Or Russia? Germany? What could they possibly be afraid of?

England's stomach churned uncomfortably. What could be in store for them all? And how would they be affected when it was all over? "Russia, report here at nine a.m. Appoint someone to take over your day to day duties and leave your pipe at home." Russia made a disgruntled noise at the order to leave home the pipe, but verbalized no objections. "What happens if we fail?" Yao asked.

"You don't fail, Yao. You complete the task, or you die. This test is  
designed to assist natural selection. If you cannot control yourself and your fears, you will be deemed unfit to be the personification of a nation. What happens after that, I don't know. But I can guess."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to The Goliath Beetle for commenting on my other fanfic God of Gods. There are some nations that will definitely be in this fic, but again, please please comment if you have one you really want to see. **

**Thanks!**

**Roxy**


	2. Chapter 2

The Fear of a Nation  
Russia's Session

Russia let himself into the small, sterile white room. There was a chair with high- powered restraints on the arm rests and around where his massive waist would be. His eyes drifted to where three men studied a computer screen, occasionally jotting things down on their electronic tablets.

There were three scientists in lab coats, a small, slim Asian man, a platinum blonde, thick- set woman, and a tall, muscular dirty- blonde. The dirty- blonde, a man with an easy smile looked up when he heard the door click closed. "Ivan Braginsky, yes?" He asked. Russia paused, taking more time to study the room before replying, "Da."

"Great. Take a seat," he gestured toward the chair with all the electronic restrictors. Russia gave it a wary look, and, wishing he had his pipe, eased himself into the seat. It was remarkably and unexpectedly comfortable, like one of the la- z- boy recliners that America likes so much. What he could assume was the machine, but just looked like a motorcycle helmet with a visor, was positioned just over the headrest.

He tried to stay wary and alert, but the chair made him relax against his will. The three scientists gave him reassuring nods. "Dermal anesthetic is effective," the Japanese doctor observed. "Ah," Russia thought. His eyes slid shut and he tumbled through the darkness into his nightmare.

* * *

Russia felt a swooping sensation in his gut, like you do when you miss a step on the stairs. He felt his body spin and fall through empty air, until without a warning he slammed into hard ground with an "oomph!" He groaned and rolled over to take in his surroundings.

The sky was a beautiful, clear azure blue and a gentle, warm breeze caressed his cheek. He felt something soft touch his cheek, and he turned to see what it was. He came face- to- face with a sunflower. It's petal had touched his face. He quickly sat up.

Underneath the blue of the sky was a field of green, black, and yellow. Beautiful sunflowers danced in the breeze, waving hello to him as if inviting him to sit with them and watch the sun go down. As if in a trance, he began to step forward towards the beautiful flowers.

The field erupted into flames.

Russia thew his arms over his face to shield his eyes from the inferno that had moments ago been his paradise. Heat bathed him, scorched him, but never really touched him. After what seemed like hours of burning, the heat died down and dissipated. He lowered his arm and what greeted his eyes made him howl.

The field was burnt to gray and black ash. The petals had been simply turned to dust, and stalks were now brittle and liable to break at the slightest touch. Ivan turned, desperate to find a single living flower. There were none. The utopia he had found himself in had become a desolate landscape in a grayscale color scheme. Ivan shook with suppressed rage and heartbreak. He wondered what he was supposed to do now. How do you conquer a field of burnt flowers? The simulation didn't end. Clearly he was supposed to do something. What was it? Ivan had to think about it.

Was it how he chose to deal with the loss? How he moved on past the barely- tasted heaven? Then that would be easy. He resolved to move on, there would be another field of sunflowers. This was not the end.

* * *

He felt a rush of cold air flow into his lungs. His eyes flew open. "Ivan? Ivan, how many fingers am I holding up?" The American scientist held up a blurry hand and shined a light in Ivan's eyes. "Three," Ivan answered. "Good. It was longer than we thought, but you passed with flying colors." Ivan tried to stand, but the restraints that had mysteriously appeared around his arms and waist kept him from moving.

The Czech pressed a button and the magnets that powered the restrains turned off. "How long was the process?" Ivan asked, feeling the stiffness in his powerful muscles. "About... Yakazowi, how long was that?" "Fifty- three hours."

"Fifty- three?" Ivan asked mildly. "Just over two days," the American confirmed. "I see." "Understand that about six of those hours was just your body accepting the machine and drugs and allowing us to open your mind," the Czech tried to reassure him. Ivan stood and left the room, waiting until he was out of eyeshot and earshot before letting the trembling overwhelm him for a few brief minutes.

**Back in the Nightmare Room:**

"That was interesting. He somehow melded his two fears into one. They 'became one', as he would say."

"It is curious, isn't it? I think that earns him a pass, seeing as he dealt with it so efficiently."

"I agree with Doctor Milan."

"It's decided then. Ivan Braginsky is still fit to be a nation."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Fear of a Nation**

Canada's Session

Canada got a call the morning following Russia's completion of the test. "Hello? This is Canada."

"Matthew Williams? Hi, this is Dr. Daniel Miller. We need you to come in tomorrow for your session at nine o clock, sharp." Canada swallowed. "I'll be there," he said. "What was that?" Dr. Miller asked. "I said I'll be there," Matthew told him louder. "Great! See ya then!" "Bye," Matthew mumbled as he hung up the phone. We're all Americans that cheerful, or was it just Alfred and that guy?

Kumajiro nuzzled Matthew's hand. "Who was that?" He asked sleepily. "A scientist. He wants to pick out my brain without using surgery," Matthew explained somewhat sarcastically to the bear.

"... Who are you?"

"I'm Canada. Your owner?"

"Oh."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Canada made himself a large pancake breakfast the next day and absentmindedly drowned the poor things in syrup. "Can I have some?" Kumajiro asked. "No, Kumamoto, this much sugary syrup will give you a heart attack." "Who are-" "I'm Canada." Matthew chewed his food thoughtfully. What could his worst fear be? If he didn't know, would the test work on him? He'd just have to wait and see.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

At nine- o- clock, Canada slid the door open and stepped in nervously. There was a hospital bed- the kind that periodically read your vitals out loud and alerts doctors to changes. The occupant of the bed at the moment was a dummy, with real heart and lungs, along with blood pressure and heart rate. All over the walls were screens that had some part of the dummy as the the focal point, the brain, heart, and lungs, along with other vital organs.

Canada coughed to announce his presence. The short platinum blonde female scientist smiled warmly at him and gestured him to lay in the hospital bed while the small Asian took the dummy away. She gave him a muscle relaxant so the restraints wouldn't be necessary. As soon as Matthew made contact with the bed, his eyes felt heavy and he wanted to sleep, never mind the coffee he had only half an hour ago.

When he opened his eyes, he was confused. He didn't remember closing his lids. Oh well. Where was he?

The air smelled dank and musty. Moisture dripped from cold stone walls, and the wooden bench he was on was uncomfortable and possibly rotting. He shivered; it was a bit chilly. His wrists felt heavy, he lifted them to inspect them. He was shackled.

He was in a cell.

"Hello?" He called. His voice bounced around the stones and echoed slightly. He stood up and peered through the bars of the cell. The whole jail seemed to be of stone, like the ones built back in the days of colonization and fights between France and England. Actually, it was exactly like that. The bars made up the door and the ceiling was in the shape of an arc.

"Guard!" He called. "Guard, I need help!" He needed to know why he was there. He heard footsteps rush towards him. "What is it, scum?" The guard hissed. He was dressed in the armor of soldiers from the seventeen hundreds. "Why am I here?" Matthew asked, trying to hide his relief. "You play games?" The guard sneered at him. Matthew just looked at him. "Fine. I'll play your game, murderer."

Murderer?

Matthew's mouth got very dry. The guard fished out a warrant. "Matthew Williams is under arrest for the murder or Francis Bonnefoy with the accomplice Arthur Kirkland. He is sentenced to hang by the neck until dead, after watching Arthur Kirkland suffer the same fate." Matthew couldn't seem to catch his breath. A tear leaked out if his eye. "Papa... Dead?" The guard snorted. "Did you forget, scum? Did you forget stripping him of his uniform and hanging his buck- naked corpse by the wrists from the tree outside of town? Did you forget carving the English king's name on his chest?" "STOP IT STOP IT!" Matthew shrieked. Any inkling that this wasn't real slipped his mind.

"Repenting, boy? Good, God may pity you." Matthew slid down to the floor and cried in heaving, racking sobs. He put his sticky hands over his face- sticky? He pulled his hands away from his face and put them in a shaft of sunlight for a better look.

Blood.

"Guard?" He said in a panicked voice. "Guard, who's blood is this?" He heard the guard's dark snicker. "Not yours, kid. Not yours."

Matthew screamed. "PAPA! PAPA!" "Papa's dead," the guard drawled. "Your knife killed him." Matthew scrambled away from the cold bars of the door and pressed his hands over his ears. "SHUT UP SHUT UP! PAPA!" He screwed his eyes shut and his lips twisted in a grimace. He pressed himself further and further into the wall. "PAPA!"

He cried himself out, although he'd never stopped shaking. "I killed him, I killed him," he thought over and over. As the sun rose, he made peace with his crime. He'd killed his father, it was time to accept the consequences.

Time to pay for his sin.

The guard from the night before fetched him shortly after dawn. "Boy. It's time." Matthew picked himself up off the ground. "No more games," he warned Matthew. Matthew mutely shook his head.

He was led in shackles to the gallows in the bright of the new day. A gallows had been erected in the center if the town square. On the opposite side was Arthur, who was smirking at him knowingly. His green eyes glinted evilly. Matthew flinched and avoided his gaze. There wasn't a lot of pomp and ceremony; the priest simply said a halfhearted prayer and Arthur was marched up to his noose.  
The noose was placed around his neck and the hood over his head. The trapdoor under him was triggered, and to the disappointment of the crowd that had gathered, Arthur's neck immediately snapped. No show for them. Whatever blood that had been left in Matthew's face had drained away.

I deserve this.

* * *

Matthew opened his eyes, disorientated and very confused. "Canada, can you hear me?" A concerned voice asked. Matthew was back in the sterile room, white light blinding him. "Yep," he croaked. Dr. Miller was fussing over him. The gallows were gone, as was everything nightmarish and freaky. He was still trembling.

"There's maple tea in the waiting room, and cookies. Help yourself. You are free to go," the Czech woman told him. He nodded and walked out, dazed and quivering.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Interesting. That only took about thirty- six hours. I thought it might take longer."

"Indeed. The stimulus had an odd way of presenting itself."

"How do you feel about the way he handled it?"

"Not exactly ideal, but he made peace with it and accepted the consequences of his actions."

"Is this degree of submission desirable in a nation?"

"Quite the contrary: I believe that the fact that he realized he was a threat to his loved ones caused him to be submissive. If there was threat to his family, I don't doubt that we may have seen the rare dark side of Canada."

"I vote Canada is fit to keep his status as a nation."

"I second this."

"I concur as well."

"Great. Who's next?"


	4. Chapter 4

**The Fear of a Nation**

England's Session

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr..." England waited. "United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Your session with the machine is at nine tomorrow morning." "You can just call me England," Arthur told him, nonplussed. "That is such a relief, there's no way I would have remembered that," the scientist told him earnestly. "Erm... Right... Nine o clock?" "Yes." "Okay. See you then." The two hung up, and Arthur stared at his half- empty teacup. "By God, he was friendly," he said to no one in particular. He glanced at his clock and did some math. "No one should be that friendly at six a.m."

Xxxxxxxxxx

England followed the signs down the brightly lit hall. He found himself in front of an ominous oak door with signs of numerous locks. The handle was cool, as he found out when he twisted the knob. "Mr. Kirkland," a soft voice greeted him. The three doctors stood in front of a throne- like chair. "That's me," he said cautiously. A short blonde woman stepped aside and gestured to the chair. He nodded and closed the distance between him and the chair to sit in it.

He slid into the seat and gazed at the three scientists. Daniel Miller, the technician, Kenjiro Yakazowi, the neurologist, and Dusana Milan, the physician. They all had impassive expressions. "Perhaps they're wondering what I'm afraid of," he thought. "That'll make four of us."

If they injected him with the drug, than he didn't see it. However he did see his lids slide shut over his eyes without much resistance, much to his embarrassment. Panic surged through his veins as a falling sensation overtook him.

His eyes flew open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was a smell he was all too familiar with, but one he hadn't smelled in decades. It was the sickening smell of burning flesh.

He was in a silver suit of armor, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other. There was a slight breeze that shifted the blades of grass around him. He was in a spacious clearing of green grass. About 150 meters away was the tree line. And about five meters directly in front of him was his nightmare.

There were three bonfires, crackling away at wooden poles. On his left was France, sobbing on his knees at the foot of the dancing flames. Tied to the pole was an already- dead Jeanne D'Arc. On the left was a weeping Scotland, crying over the blackened and burned body of William Wallace. The center pole was unoccupied, but the flames in that one lept the highest. His brother and his rival were both in period dress, and both shedding tears as if the liquid would quench the hungry flames. "What the hell..." He muttered. He said out loud to no one in particular, "We've moved past this! We forgave each other! Why is this happening?"

"Awrthur?"

Arthur felt a tug on his wrist. Startled, he looked down.

"Alfred! What are you doing here? You shouldn't be seeing this.."

Alfred was small again. A toddler, maybe around three. He looked up at Arthur with big, adoring blue eyes. "Awrthur, the fire's so pretty!" Arthur swallowed and glanced behind him. "Um, yes it is. Just stay away from it, okay? Fire can hurt." "Aw, it can't huwrt that badwy!" Arthur's sense of foreboding grew. "Alfred, now you listen here. Do not go near that fire." Alfred gave him a mischievous smile. Arthur's heart hammered in his chest and he reached out to Alfred to grab him and keep him close.

Alfred dodged England's hands and ran, laughing, at the bonfire. "ALFRED NO!" England was too slow in his armor. He watched as Alfred, laughing and smiling, jumped into the flames.

Arthur screamed and fell to his knees as if shot. "ALFRED!"  
No giggles came from the fire. Nothing.

Arthur breathed heavily, tears freely falling from his eyes. He picked himself up. His shoulders and chest heaved. Then, he noticed something. Another bonfire? He did a three- sixty, and saw himself in a ring of bonfires, all of which held an acquaintance or someone dear to him. Francis, Matthew, Ludwig, all of them were burning at the stake. "This is your fault," a viscous voice hissed at him. He felt a presence behind him. "Ridiculous," Arthur whispered with huge, scared eyes. "It is," the voice gloated. "All you. Aren't you proud of your achievements? Aren't you happy with what you've done?"

Arthur spun around to confront the speaker. When coming face to face with him, he nearly fainted.

It was Alfred.

Except it was teenage Alfred. Alfred just before the Revolution. "How could you say these things to me? I raised you!" Arthur shouted at Alfred. His face was steadily turning red. "It was you, Arthur. You killed your enemies. You slaughtered your acquaintances. And you've murdered your friends. Look, Arthur. You killed Francis!" Arthur's eyes flicked to the stake that a limp, charred Francis was bound to. "And you killed me."

"What?"

There was a loud crack, and blood sprayed from Alfred's forehead. Alfred collapsed, obviously dead. Arthur froze in total shock. And came face to face with himself. There was a man that looked exactly like him, holding a gun with smoke coming out of the barrel. "Sorry about that, mate," the Not- Arthur said evilly. He grinned at Real Arthur.

Xxxxxxxx

"Mr. England, can you hear me? Mr. England, wake up!"

Arthur jerked awake, sweating and shaking. He was breathing as if he had run ten miles and shivering so hard his teeth clashed together. "Mr. England, can you hear me?" Still shaking hard, he nodded. "England, what happened? The screen went dark after America got shot..."

Arthur looked to the screen that Dr. Miller gestured to. It was one of the neuro- imaging screens that showed outsiders the patient's dreams or hallucinations. It was a very useful device, but now it just made Arthur pissed. It made him feel violated. It wasn't enough that he was forced to comfort his darkest nightmare; it was laid bare for others to see as well. "To hell with the screen," he snapped at Miller. "Arthur, what happened?" Miller asked seriously.

Arthur bit his lip, trying to remember so he could tell them and leave as quickly as possible. "I... I don't remember," he admitted. Miller looked to Dr. Milan. "Vitals are steady, he isn't lying," she told him after a look around the room at various monitors. England flushed.

"Don't embarrass him so much, you know how tsundere he is." Yakazowi chided them. "Right here," England hinted, annoyed. "Sorry," Yakazowi apologized. "You don't remember what happened?" Milan asked. "No!" England snapped. "Okay. You may go, Mr. Kirkland. You may have to come back again tomorrow-" "No. Never again," Arthur nearly growled. "Never again." He got out of his chair and slammed the door behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"I have to say, I'm at a bit of a loss."

"Same here. What happened?"

"Perhaps his body didn't respond well to the drugs."

"Impossible. The drug bonds with the subject's DNA on contact."

"Does it matter? You saw it; we had to pull him out. He was seconds away from a heart attack."

"Literally scared to death."

"Exactly."

"So, what? Does this make him unfit?"

"How does he normally cope with conflict?"

"His file says he cooks badly, knits, reads, and drinks tea."

"Okay..."

"But he has methods?"

"Yes."

"He couldn't use these methods while under the hallucination."

"That's not what we're testing! We're testing his mental ability to cope with immediate fear."

"In that case he failed."

"... Yes."

"Hold on! You guys saw the images on that screen. That was freaky stuff."

"Yes, it was disturbing..."

"And if we know England, we know that he won't rest until he finds a way on his own to get past this."

"So, he stays."

"He stays."

"I agree."

"Of course you do."

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

**A/N: I really have fun with the little conversations between the scientists... Anyway, Godzilla? I already have plans for America, but I suppose I could sneak in a bonus chapter... Anyway, read, review, and leave a suggestion! By all means, please, because I am not entirely sure what I want to do with Romano or Spain, ya know, when I get to them. **

**Love ya!**

**Roxy**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks to Little Miss India for the PM! I'll have to get started on chapter six, so don't expect an update for at least another 48 hours. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation Five**

America's Session

"Freedom speaking!" Arthur rolled his eyes. "America, shut up. Listen, have you had your go at the machine yet?" He held his breath. "No, but I got a call about an hour ago saying they wanted me tomorrow at nine. Why?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alfred, listen. The machine is powerful. You have to be prepared." "Aw, Iggy, you do care!" "Shut up, you twat! I'm serious!" "It's fine, Iggy. I'm ready for this!" Arthur rolled his eyes again. "Really?" "Well, no, but I'm the hero, and heroes are always prepared! Gotta go, Iggy!" "Don't call me Iggy!" Click.

"Idiot..."

Xxxxxxxxx

America let himself in through the oak doors and took in the sight that greeted him. To be completely honest, it made him a bit nervous. The chair was made from a mixture of titanium and steel, and magnetic restraints were nearly as thick as his arms themselves. "Are those necessary?" He wondered. "Oh yeah, I'm the strongest nation here. They probably are necessary."

In 2017, his economy completely recovered from the recession in 2011. It even added around 700,000 new jobs and they struck oil in the Gulf of Mexico. They started up new medical industries and technological research centers. His military added another branch, and never wavered in strength. He even managed to pay off his debt to China. In short, America was stronger than he had ever been before. And with him, the rest of the world improved. So yeah, if they expected him to thrash around while under the machine's influence, then those restraints were probably necessary.

But... What could be so terrifying that he would thrash like that?

"Take a seat, Mr. America,"  
Dr. Miller invited. "Daniel Miller? Top of your class at MIT, weren't you?" Miller turned pink and nodded. "Yes, sir." America smiled at him. "You do your nation proud, Miller. Keep up the good work." Miller was positively red and stammered a thanks. With a grin that hid the roll and turn of his stomach, Alfred settled down into the chair. The restraints snapped around him and the sudden realization of confinement decidedly did not help his nerves. "Calm down," the Japanese scientist told him. Alfred tried to steady his breathing, but his heart kept beating erratically. "Give him a relaxant," he told the blonde. She filled a syringe with a clear liquid and injected it into Alfred's arm without so much as a warning. "Ow," he muttered.

The room disappeared.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Alfred came to strapped to a chair. He was in a small circular room, maybe six feet in diameter. The walls and floor were a polished, shiny black, like Germany's boots. There were small, circular white lights that were his only means of seeing. The room was a perfect circle, and he seemed to be on a slightly raised platform, also a circle. There were windows that he had to look up to see; the bottom of the window was about eight inches over his head.

He saw his friends watching him. They observed him. Some, like Germany and Japan, had expressionless faces. Others, like his brother, Matthew, England, and France had openly worried looks. He craned his head to look all around at the windows to see who was there. He was shocked to see that every nation on the planet was there. Senegal, Seychelles, Australia, Mexico, Israel, even Iraq and Afghanistan were there. He turned his attention back to his bonds and jerked his arms, testing the strength of the straps.

He grit his teeth and tried again to rip through the ropes that held him. But they didn't give. He noticed a strap around his waist and one for each ankle as well. With everyone there to witness his struggles, humiliation grew. His cheeks flamed red and he tried to ignore them to focus on escaping.

Pain seared his back. On it's own accord, his back arched and his mouth opened in a scream. It was excruciating. He felt like he was being carved. The pain ebbed away, and he slumped, panting, back into his seat. He looked through his hair at the windows. Arthur was looking back at him, panicked, hands pressed against the glass. Shame grew. He straightened and resolved to not let any more pain show. He would get out of this. By himself, like the strong nation he was.

He turned his attention back to the restraints. He decided that he only needed a few minutes to work at them before he would have enough wiggle room to slip his wrist out. As he started to work at them, though, a hot white pain licked at his chest and back like tongues of fire. He couldn't help himself- he screamed again, long, drawn- out, horrible. At a thudding noise, he jerked his head up to see what was happening. Arthur was pounding on the glass while silently yelling. Francis and Matthew were trying to restrain him with equally distressed faces. Tears sprung to Alfred's eyes.

Watching him while he suffered. Seeing him weak. So this was his fear.

Agony ripped through his body in the very marrow of his bones. Blood dripped from his mouth from biting his lip and tongue. What the hell was he supposed to do? The pain got worse each time. He was too weak from it to escape.

Scream for help, his mind begged. No, he countered. You're the United States of America. You can do this. With a yell, he wrested his arm from the arm of the chair he was bound to. The restraint snapped, and with it, his bone. His forearm and upper arm broke like twigs. He hissed at the splintery discomfort of it.

"Great," he thought. "One free, but useless, arm." From somewhere, a bolt of electricity was fired at him. His body shook with the zap and he felt tingles everywhere. More pain. He thought he might cry. Ask for help, an insistent voice ordered him.

"ARTHUR! MATTIE, FRANCIS! HELP!" He screamed.

Xxxxxxxxx

He lurched forward with a gasp. His eyes flew open, then snapped shut at the blinding white light. "America?" Miller asked, concerned. America was soaked in sweat.

"Yeah?" He asked. His voice nearly trembled. Nearly. "America, are you okay? You've been out for ninety- three hours..."

"Ninety- three?!"

"Yeah."

"Well no wonder I'm so hungry! Jeez! Next time wake me up for a burger or something!" The restraints snapped open and he eagerly lept from the chair. "This was fun, guys! Keep up the good work! Now if you'll excuse me, the hero has some work to do!" And with that America strode out with a confident smile on his face. Once he rounded the corner, though, he ducked into a utility closet and crawled into the fetal position. He rocked back and forth on his heels with his knees supporting his forehead.

"Never complaining about Slender Man again... Never..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Not bad."

"Not bad? If he hadn't yelled for help before he did, he would've died from the pain!"

"He did yell for help though."

"After he pushed away his ego, you mean."

"Pride is just one of his many vices. He got over it."

"True."

"I agree."

"We know."

"What?"

"Nothing. Who's next?"

"Um... *papers rustle* Mr. Japan."

"Now that should be interesting."

* * *

**A/N: I think I'll do Japan next.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fear of a Nation**  
Japan's Session

Japan's phone rang, late in the evening. Normally, he'd be sleeping, but there was a lunar eclipse due in about an hour. He didn't want to miss it. "Konnichiwa."

"Japan- dono," the voice on the other end said. "It's Dr. Yakazowi. Your turn at the machine is tomorrow at nine." Japan stiffened nervously. "I see. I heard it was more of a drug than a machine."

"It's a bit of a combination. Can we expect you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you can, Yakazowi- sama. Good- night."

"Good- night."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Japan knocked hesitantly on the door. He squared his small shoulders and lifted his head. One of his own was in there. It would be good to show dignity to these foreign scientists. Represent his country well. The door opened to him.

He walked in with a deep sense of ancient Japanese wisdom. This particular piece of wisdom, paraphrased into modern English, says, "Fuck dignity and run screaming." But no. He simply kept his eyes on the device. He only paid enough attention to the three scientists to be respectful.

The device was a traditional Japanese bed, akin to one that a lord would sleep in. He wondered how exactly that was a machine- but then noticed the subtle electronics that were woven into the bed, just as threads were woven into a tapestry. The other nations wouldn't have noticed this; Japan did because his country was leading in technological research. He eased himself onto the bed and lay down on his back, gazing at the ceiling. His eyelids felt heavy, and he allowed them to close.

Xxxxxxxxx

His body slammed into a sidewalk. He muttered a curse in Japanese and picked himself up, rubbing his back to soothe the ache. "Ow..."

He was on a brightly lit street in the city of Kyoto. That much he could tell. What he couldn't tell was why it was so deserted. No people walked the sidewalks, no cars or buses drove by. He was completely alone in one of his busiest cities. He did a slow 360, taking in everything. There was nothing but the buildings around him and the roads.

Not a single living thing was to be seen. Eerie. He didn't want to just stand there and wait for something to happen, so he moved, walking briskly down the sidewalk. He kept his head low and let his eyes do the looking. He passed shops with flickering signs and an intersecting with a blinking red light. He sensed a shift behind him and turned, expecting an assailant.

There was nothing. It seemed only to be the breeze on the back of his neck. He kept walking.

He was walking by a park when he heard a loud and unexpected rustle. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. "It's happening!" he thought, panicked. He screamed once and threw up his hands to defend himself.

When no blow landed on him, he lowered his arms slightly and gasped when he came face to face with-  
A squirrel.

He sank to his knees, shoulders shaking and whole body trembling. He yelled in frustration with tears brimming at the surface of his chocolatey eyes. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" Maybe the doctors would give him a clue as to what to do.

He stayed there, crying on the sidewalk for an infinite time. As he cried he thought, "I'm too old for this." He wondered if he was failing this test. Maybe, he thought, if he failed, the scientists would end his pain. As if summoned, an ache seared his hip.

He noticed, through the curtain of his bangs, a pair of shoes.

His chin was lifted by a smooth, pale hand. He looked up at the new arrival. It was a woman with long raven- hair and a surgical mask on her face. Japan's gut seemed to sink through the sidewalk. She tilted her head at him and purred, "Am I beautiful?"

Kuchisaka- Onna.

Japan's breath was coming in ragged gasps. "Yes," he choked out. The woman released his chin, and he fell backwards and scrabbled back. He gave up on dignity awhile ago. His eyes were locked on the woman of his nightmares.

She took off the mask and smiled at him. Japan's stomach rolled. There were two slashes on the corners of her mouth that reached up to her ears. The cuts were infected and shiny with blood. "Am I still beautiful?" She asked him in a light, little- girlish tone. A gleam of silver caught Kiku's eye; sticking out of the back pocket of the woman's trench was what could only be described as the finger- hole for a ridiculously gigantic pair of scissors.

Japan couldn't find his voice. She further tilted her head at him and repeated herself. "Am I still beautiful?" He shook himself out his paralysis and bolted up. He ran top speed in the opposite direction. His feet slapped against the concrete, and all he could hear was that and the furious howl of the she- demon he left in his dust.

He ran across the empty street and dodged into an ally to escape her. He was in the shadow of a brick building, hopefully hidden from view. Kuchisaka's howl had faded. He pressed his palms into the cold brick and panted, trying to rest. He listened hard, but heard none of the tell- tale footsteps of Kuchisaka. He sighed in relief and pushed himself off the wall to get further away from the site of the incident- only to slam right into the grinning madwoman.

She grinned insanely at him with a manic light in her eyes. "Am I still beautiful?" She asked. Her voice began with a purr and ended in a blood- curdling roar. He turned and sprinted away again without saying a word. He rounded the corner of the block without pausing. He blindly took random turns until he came to a dead end. Kiku turned at the sound of dark chuckling. The demon was behind him.

She pulled out her stupidly large scissors and lifted them over her head to strike at Kiku. Kiku reeled, paralysis overtaking him again. So he said the only thing he could think enough to say. "You are legend," he choked out. The woman paused. "Legend?" She hissed. Kiku nodded earnestly. "You are known throughout Japan for your beauty." He bowed to her. "And you are feared as well."

The woman gazed at him with a faraway expression. "You are old," she stated. Kiku nodded. "Yes, I am. I'm very old. Not as old as China, but still old." The woman continued to consider him. "Old and wise beyond your years, Honda Kiku. You deserved a better life."

Xxxxxxxxx

Kiku opened his eyes thinking, "We all deserve better." "You may leave, Mr. Honda," Dr. Milan told him softly.

Xxxxxxxxx

"..."

"He's depressed, isn't he?"

"... I'm not sure."

"You're a physician, Milan. You must at least have an idea."

"I do."

"And?"

"I don't like it. He looks ten pounds underweight... And remember right before Kuchisaka showed up? He was in pain."

"Is he damaged?"

"Likely the pains that come with old age."

"Is he capable of continuing his duties as a nation?"

"I believe so. As long as Japan prospers, he should be fine."

"So, you're saying that he's fine... For now."

" *Sigh* For now."

"But what about the way he faced Kuchisaka? He didn't deal with it as much as he did grovel to her..."

"That's no longer an issue. We learned more from before Kuchisaka came than when he actually faced her."

"We'll have to discuss this further some other time."

"I agree. Who's next?"

* * *

**A/N: Long- ass chapter for you guys! You're the best! Please please please tell me what you think! And if you have suggestions, TELL ME BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW. Love ya! And wow, I did not expect this much attention. R&R and PM me for suggestions, they will be taken into consideration.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Fear of a Nation**  
Spain's Session

Spain let himself into the tall office building at nine o clock. He thought it would take him awhile to find the room where the... Process would take place, but signs pointed him to the room like it was some kind of convention.

"Hola?"

"Ah, Mr. Spain. Please, take a seat. We'll begin shortly," the Czech doctor said. Her voice was warm and reassuring. The small Japanese doctor leaned over a computer screen. His shoulders were tense and when he spoke to the others doctors, he didn't make eye contact. The American doctor just studied his notes on the electronic tablet.

Spain eased himself onto the hospital bed that Canada had used during his session and immediately felt the drugs to into effect.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Spain was in his warm bed, under the sheets that smelled faintly of tomatoes and tortillas. He basked in the warm sunlight that streamed in through his window. Total calm and contentment spread through him. He couldn't help but smile.

He sat up, found one of his shirts, and pulled it over his bare chest. He looked to the other side of the bed to make sure he didn't wake Romano-

The other side of the bed was empty. He felt it with the back of his hand, and to his surprise, it wasn't even warm. Someone had slept in it, he could tell because the telltale crease that had been left when Romano slipped out from under the covers. "Maybe he had a nightmare and went downstairs," Spain thought. He quickly left the room and skipped steps down the stairs to the kitchen. "Roma?" He called.

Only silence greeted him. Without the sounds of Romano cursing and fumbling with something, the house was eerily quiet. Spain didn't like it. "Romano?" He called again. The kitchen and dining room were empty. "No," Spain thought, a horrible fear growing in his stomach. He turned and ran back up the stairs. When he got to their bedroom, he flung open Romano's closet. It was totally empty. He turned again and opened all his Romano's draws in rapid succession. All empty. In his peripheral vision, he saw something on Romano's nightstand and dived for it. It was a folded piece of paper. Spain unfolded it and read,

Tomato Bastard,

I'm leaving. I can't stand you and I can't stand how the other nations treat me for being with you. I'm not coming back. Don't ever call me.

South Italy.

Tears sprung to Antonio's eyes and confusion bubbled inside of him. "I can't stand how other nations treat me for being with you." What the hell was that about?

Something red splattered against his window with a jolting thump. He jumped and ran over to examine it. It was... A tomato? He opened the window and peered down. What he saw was... Unpleasant and unexpected. A small mob was milling about outside his home.

Angry mutters and pacing came from the mob below, and when his head came into view, furious shouts were heard. More tomatoes sailed towards him. He flinched back and yelled, "Hey! Stop wasting my tomatoes!"

The people ignored him, and a strangely familiar shout rang out, "Break the door down!" A few men went up to the door and started throwing their shoulders against it. Antonio began to freak out a little bit. He flung open the drawer if his nightstand, only to find that his gun and pocketknife were missing. Spain returned to the window and searched the crowd for someone who might help him.

He recognized everyone in the crowd.

Germany, America, and Russia were the ones trying to break the door down. Hungary was screaming insults at him, along with England. Prussia and France- his FRIENDS- were coolly and calmly staring up at him as if contemplating how to scale the wall and break in through his window. He gave them a pleading look, which they seemed to ignore.

From downstairs, he heard his door break off the hinges. "He should still be upstairs," a voice from below said. Antonio froze as his blood turned to ice. The voice belonged to Romano. As quietly as he could, Antonio crept to the railing and chanced a look down the stairs. Romano, Ludwig, Ivan and Alfred were looking around with determined expressions. He quickly moved out of their sight. He heard heavy footsteps moving towards him, and he ducked into a closet. He quietly sank down so he could look through the crack between the door and the floor.

Ivan's boots clomped past him into his bedroom. Antonio twitched at this invasion of privacy. Alfred went to search in the guest bedroom, Ludwig went to the bathroom to look for the Spaniard. But Romano, he just stood there, stock- still at the top of the stairs. Spain gulped. Roma knew this house as well as he did... "He isn't here!" Ivan called from his room. "Nothing over here!" Alfred piped. "Ludwig?" Romano asked. "Nein," Ludwig said.

"Ivan, Ludwig, go hang out by the door, si?" Heavy boots thundered down the stairs. Antonio's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. Alfred walked over to Romano... They were close together, Antonio could tell just by the proximity of their shoes. He could hear whispers, but couldn't even guess at what they were saying. His heart couldn't stop pounding.

Alfred suddenly turned on his heel and strode directly at the closet Antonio was hiding in. He flung open the door, and after being in the dark closet, the bright sunlight temporarily blinded Antonio. Suddenly he was being yanked up by his hair with curses and hisses of pain. Alfred roughly dragged downstairs before he could get his bearings. At the bottom of the stairs, Ludwig swung a powerful leg and knocked Antonio's legs out from under him.

His knees buckled with a sharp, "Omph!" Ivan grabbed his other arm and he was unceremoniously dragged into the dusty street. "Roma," he called. A boot collided with his solar plexus. "Shut up," a voice snarled at him. He lifted his head to glare at the one who kicked him, and found himself staring into the glittering red eyes of one of his best friends.

"Put him in the car."

Spain, hearing this, decided he'd had enough. He tried to jerk out of Ivan and Alfred's grip, but after all this time, they were still the most powerful countries in the world, and it was hopeless to even try to escape. They knew it too, and Ivan chuckled at him. Alfred just smirked. They hauled him to a truck a few feet away and tossed him in. Prussia and France, already inside, held him by his shirt to keep him from jumping out.

"Trying to leave the party early, tomato freak?" Prussia snorted. "You have no idea how long we've been waiting for this," France chimed in. "You have no idea how long the world has been waiting to watch you burn."

Antonio's mouth went very dry. "Guys, come on, I thought we were friends," Antonio chuckled nervously. Prussia and France exchanged a smirk. "No one's your friend, Spain. Grow up."

Spain felt like he had been slapped. No one was going to help him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Spain! WAKE UP!"

Antonio's eyes flew open with a gasp. "What?!" He yelped. The scientists looked panicked. "Get up!" The American ordered. Spain jumped up, and the American doctor hauled him out by his collar with the other two closely following. The Japanese man slammed the door behind him and all three pressed their backs against the door. "What-"

A rumbling crash echoed from in the room and the force of it nearly blew the doors open, if not for the three blocking it from opening. "Our research," the Czech said faintly. The Japanese man pulled three tablets out from inside his white lab coats. "Oh thank God."

"Go home, Mr. Spain. Don't tell anyone what happened here," Dr. Miller warned him. "No problemo, Señor." Antonio promised. He backed away and sprinted down the hall to the building's exit.

Prussia and France were waiting outside to pick him up. "Hey, dude! Get in the Awesome- mobile and we'll stop by the new bar!" Prussia called. Spain tried to smile at them, but the cold expressions on their faces in his hallucination haunted him. "Um, actually, amigos... I'll walk."

France and Prussia blinked. "Toni, are you sure, mon ami?" He asked. Antonio nodded vigorously. "Uh... Okay, if the awesome is too much for you..." Prussia shrugged. France shook his head. "Non, non. España, come on. Lets go have drinks and you can tell us all about it." Spain wavered for a moment. "Okay, he agreed. He climbed into the truck and Prussia stepped on the gas. Spain speed- dialed Romano. "What is it, Tomato Bastard? How did the machine thing go?"

"I love you, Lovi."

"I love you too, Tomato Bastard. What do you want?"

Spain smiled.

Xxxxxxxxx

"That was intense."

"The level of emotion involved in that was unexpected, to be sure."

"Yes."

"His vitals made the system override..."

"Yeah that was freaky. At least we saved the notes. Thanks for that, Yakazowi."

"No problem..."

"Should we invite him back?"

"He'll resist that. Lets just made him take a questionnaire instead."

"Good idea. I feel like these are getting steadily worse as we go on..."

* * *

**A/N: Spain is one of my favorite characters. Writing this broke my heart. The next one will either be France or Germany. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wow. I seriously did not expect this much attention for this story. You guys are Prussia- level awesome. Enjoy!**

**Fear of a Nation**  
France's Session

France hadn't let himself be ruffled by this whole, "deal with your worst fear or die" thing until he saw what it did to Spain. The trio went drinking, as promised, and Spain quietly sobbed out the story, leaving out what happened at the end. The story chilled France to the bones, especially the part about what he said to Spain at the end... Did Spain really think that they would do that to him?

Anyway, France dragged an emotional Spain and a wild Prussia home. Thankfully, they were both unconscious by the time the three got to France's hotel. It was easier to struggle with their unconscious forms than it was when they were awake. Prussia would have sexually harassed the receptionist- something that was very much frowned upon here in the States- and Spain would have either joined Prussia or cry on the bell boy's shoulder. Either way, he wasn't entirely happy until Prussia's body landed on the bed with a soft thump. He put Spain in the other bed and took the couch.

France was stirred awake by the sun as it shone through the window- and slightly less romantically- the harsh rings of the hotel room's phone. "May I speak to Gilbert Beilschimdt?" A Czech- accented voice asked. "This is his friend, Francis Bonnefoy. I'll take a message if you like," he offered. "All right. He needs to come in tomorrow for his session."

France looked at Prussia's peacefully sleeping form. And then looked at Spain's face, which was still pinched with tension even in sleep. France wavered a moment. Maybe he could keep Prussia's sleep peaceful for a few more days... "No." He said into the phone.

"Uh... Excuse me, sir?"

"Non. I'll take my turn first." France said firmly. There was silence on the other end. "Sir, I'm sorry, we can't really..." France smirked. "Madame, s'il vous plaît. Allow me to go first." He heard murmuring on the other end, some male voices arguing. After a few moments, the woman came back. "Very well. Come in tomorrow at nine." They exchanged good- byes and hung up.

France looked over at his two sleeping friends and snorted. "The things I do for you two."

Xxxxxxxxxx

France was let in by the female scientist he spoke to on the phone. He was hurriedly pushed onto a metal recliner. There was no evidence of yesterday's explosion- that Spain actually did tell him about, but was drunk enough to think that he only remembered it instead of describing it in great detail. His eyes closed. "This works fast..." He mumbled. His forced one eye open to look at the Czech woman and slurred, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" And then he was unconscious.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

He was sitting on the rim of a fountain in the middle of Paris. The streets were busy, and people rushed past him. "This isn't so bad," he thought. Someone in apparently a great hurry brushed past him, except it wasn't a brush as much as it was a shove, and France tumbled backwards into the fountain. France sat up and pushed his sopping wet bangs out of his eyes. "I suppose I should have knocked on wood just them," he mused.

He stood and wrung out his cloak and hair. He gingerly stepped out of the stone fountain and sighed. He looked around. It seemed as if he saw the city for the first time.

There was a chilly atmosphere, even though it was a warm, sunny day. There were couples walking around, as usual. But they all seemed to be tolerating their partner's presence instead of enjoying it. One couple sitting near him on the fountain were experiencing a phenomenon that France immediately christened, "the Berlin Wall of body language".

Then, through the fountain's shimmering water, France saw something that made his blood boil.

On the other side of the fountain was a big, burly muscular man and a small, delicate woman with beautiful red hair. The man's face was ugly and twisted with anger. He was harshly gripping the woman's upper arm and was pulling her toward an ally. France narrowed his eyes and followed them.

The man pushed the woman- his girlfriend?- into the stone wall of the building. "What did I say about looking at other guys?" He hissed at her. She swallowed hard. "I- I wasn't looking at him, honey- I promise!" The tall guy got in her face and growled at her, "Oh yeah? Wanna go back there and ask him? Huh?" She shook her head vigorously. "No- please!"

France had enough. He hated hearing women beg- unless it was in his bedroom. "Enough!" He commanded. The woman's eyes went wide with fear. The guy turned to him and gave France a "are you kidding me?" look. "What? Can't I discipline my woman?" He sneered at France. Oh, this guy was not getting on France's good side. "Leave this woman alone." France ordered him. "Butt out, pretty boy. The law says I can discipline my woman any way I want."

France's blood drained out of his face. "The law?" France choked out. "Where've you been, blondie?" The man snorted.

France's stomach plummeted. "The law gives you the right to hurt your girlfriend? What about love?" The man gave him a blank look, and the woman gave him a questioning stare. "What's love?" The jerk asked. France laughed nervously. "You joke, oui?" He asked. The pair just gave him more confused looks. "Love?" The woman asked. "Did I say you could talk?!" The ass yelled. He slapped her, hard. She barely flinched.  
She was used to it.

France stumbled back, too shocked to properly help the poor girl. He turned and ran back to the center of the square. He grabbed a random pedestrian. "You know what love is, don't you?" He demanded of the stranger. The man gave him a frightened look and took a step back. "Um, no, I can't say I've heard of the notion..." The stranger stuttered. France released him and seized another stranger. "You know what love is, don't you?" He sounded more like he was pleading this time. "Monsieur, please let me go, I don't know what you're talking about!" The woman said nervously. He let her go and ran away, to a different ally. He needed a moment.

He rested his forehead against the stone and took deep breathes. What could he have done to wind up in a world without love?

"How pretty!"

He jerked away from the wall and came face to face with three men with hungry expressions, and a bright- eyed woman who seemed to be leading them. He uneasily edged away from the four. "Grab him," the woman commanded. France pushed off with his foot to sprint away- and a hugely strong hand swung out and caught him in the chest. "Omph," France grunted.

The goon that kept him from leaving picked him up and dumped him at the woman's feet. She put her shoe on his chest and smirked at him. "Very pretty," she cooed, catching a glimpse of his blue eyes. France flashed her a white- toothed smile. "Let me go?" He tried.  
"No."  
"Please?"  
"No"  
"Zut."

"Go have fun, boys," she said, taking her boot off of his chest. "What?" He asked. The three men started sniggering as the one who dumped France at the woman's feet picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. "Hey! Let me down!" France yelled. He kicked at the guy, who didn't stop sniggering.

The building France had been leaning on to rest just happened to be a motel.

Xxxxxxxxxx

France winced at the pain in his backside and wiped his tears off his face. He pulled his torn pants back on and went to the bathroom. He got sick in the toilet and turned on the shower. He listlessly stared at the shower curtain and let the water wash away the evidence of his humiliation. As he stared, an idea came to him. He resolved to go through with it.

After a few days of searching, he found the couple he encountered in the ally and followed them to their apartment. He then went down the street and ordered flowers to the woman and bought a gift card to the Harley Davidson Motorcycles shop. The flowers were in her boyfriend's name and the gift card in the girlfriend's.

He found a place to spy on the apartment and bought binoculars. He waited for the gifts to be delivered.

Later that night, he saw through their window the couple locked in a passionate kiss with tears streaming down the man's face. She pulled back slightly and kissed away his tears. France could see his lips form the words, "Je t'aime."

Evidently, he looked up what love was on the Internet.

France sighed contentedly and put down the binoculars.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Good morning, Monsieur France."

France blearily opened his eyes. The three scientists smiled at him. "That was..." The doctor trailed off, unsure what to say. "Excellent. You may go, Mr. France. Croissants are waiting for you downstairs."

France was just relieved that there was no pain in his ass.

As he walked back down the hall, he noticed the time and date on a clock.

"Sacre bleu! Two weeks?!"

Xxxxxxxxxx

"That was amazing!"

"Indeed. And sweet as well. Helping a couple's relationship while being in that kind of pain? Wow."

"France has passed, no doubt."

"You're just happy nothing exploded."

"Point?"

"Never mind. Let's get Gilbert in here. Hopefully he does as well as France.."

* * *

**A/N: I wish I had more friends like France. :) that gave me the warm fuzzies. See you soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Three chapter in 24 hours? I spoil you guys. Anyway, we finish up the Bad Touch Trio in this chapter! Whee! Enjoy!**

**Fear of a Nation**  
Prussia's Session

"YOU TOOK MY TURN?!"

Prussia's voice rang through the hotel room. Outrage laced his tone. "How did you know?" France cried disbelievingly. Prussia's eyes flickered to Spain. "You were awake?" France asked. Spain shrugged. "I was too hungover to tell Prussia until after you had gone. And then you were gone for so long that Prussia started stalking the scientists." France raised an eyebrow.

"Not the issue!" Prussia snapped. "Did you think the awesome me could not handle it?"  
"No-" France started. "Then what?" Prussia exclaimed. France didn't speak. "I didn't want you to be affected like Toni was... And like I was," France confessed. "Is it such a crime for me to want my best friend have more peaceful sleep?"

Prussia glared at him for a few more moments, them softened. His shoulders dropped. "It's that bad?" He asked. France just looked at him, not sure how to answer. "It isn't pleasant," he ended up saying. Prussia glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "I have to go now, or I'll be late," he said blankly. "Toni and I will pick you up," France reassure him. "And then we shall get unbelievably drunk."

"I can deal with that."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia's eyes slid closed about thirty minutes later on a steel recliner.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia was laying flat on his back in a grassy field. Puffy white clouds slid lazily by in an azure blue sky. The sun that beat down harshly on the landscape was balanced by a nice, cool breeze that threaded itself through Prussia's hair.

The sounds of clashing metal and whinnying horses reached his ears. He involuntarily grinned. A battle? Cool!

He suddenly realized he was laying in a kind of sticky substance. He turned his head to a throb in his arm, and saw a deep- looking gash on his bicep. He gingerly touched it, and his fingers came away red with a hiss of pain. He tried to stand, but crumpled down to his knees. There was a gash on his ribcage, dripping blood all over his... Teutonic Knight uniform. If he was bewildered before, he wasn't now. He realized what this day was.

A pair of boots stomped over to him and stopped only a foot above him. One hand on the wound on his chest to stop the bleeding, he looked up at the newcomer. "West," he choked out.

His brother looked down at him with a strange expression. Then his lips tightened and firmed into a line. His eyes were blue steel, like the sky on a chilly day. Prussia lifted his free arm with difficulty. "Help me out, eh little bruder?" He gasped out. The gash made it difficult to breathe or speak.

Ludwig's control broke. He blinked back tears and cleared his throat. "Everyone has their time, Gilbert. Everyone dies." His voice hitched a little at the word 'dies'. Prussia shook his head. "Bruder... It's not my time yet!" Ludwig turned his back on Prussia, and although he couldn't see it, he could tell that at least one tear found its way down Ludwig's cheek. Ludwig unsheathed his sword and hurried away to rejoin the battle.

"I don't want to die," Prussia wheezed. All he could manage now were little whispery wheezes. "It's not my time yet... Prussia will survive... MY PEOPLE WILL ALWAYS BE PRUSSIAN! HEIL DEUTCHSLAND!"

He sensed his strength ebbing away and shouted what he imagined his last words would be with the last of that strength. As he slid down to the earth that he loved and turned over, he wondered if Ludwig, or anyone, had heard his defiant shout. Oh, the patriotism. Alfred would be proud. It seemed obvious Ludwig wasn't coming back, so Prussia decided that his last view of this world should be of the sky.

'Although this should be my worst fear, it was always my dream as a kid that I would die in battle.' He thought. Acceptance washed through him as the world went black.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours later, Prussia, France, and Antonio were sniggering, totally wasted, in a bush outside of England's house. "Awesome, guys!" Prussia chortled. France shushed them. "Here comes Angleterre."

England was cautiously creeping about the edge of his yard, holding aloft a heavy snow shovel. He peered in between bushes, looking for... He wasn't sure what. "Now!" Spain mouthed. France pushed a button on a remote control, and an ultra- realistic hologram appeared behind England. It was the girl taken from a "Scary Maze Game" that was popular several decades ago, and still had its charm.

As England turned, unaware of the hologram, France punched another button and hellish screams erupted from the hologram.

England's expression was priceless before he ran away screaming nonsense words that the three assumed were spells.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Dying. I'm surprised we didn't see that one sooner."

"Why did we even bother with Prussia? He isn't a nation anymore. Actually, why is he still alive?"

"Some people say he's the memory of the Holocaust. Others say he's the German state of Prussia, and he's alive because his brother saved him on that field instead of turning away. We bothered him because even though he isn't a nation, he may still have influence over his brother."

"I see..."

"So, as long as we remember the Holocaust, he lives?"

"That's one theory."

"So it's even more important that we remember..."

*outraged expression* "You didn't even try to remember the Holocaust until the possibility that it had a flesh body! Does something have to have a beating heart to be important?! We don't remember the Holocaust to keep from offending others. We remember because of the lives senselessly lost. We remember so that evil has a face in our minds, so we can recognize it, and so it will never happen again."

*door closes*

"She has a point."

"She has some issues..."

"Prussia stays?"

" I second that."

* * *

**A/N: So, I wanna do Feliciano next, but I have NO IDEA what his worst fear would be. PM me or review for suggestions?**

**Love ya!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I mentioned you guys are awesome, right? I did? Well then, on to the story!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**

**The Long- Awaited Italy Session**

"Doitsu! I don't want to go! It'll be scary!" Italy sobbed hysterically. Germany sighed. "I know, Italia, but everyone has to do it. I'll be waiting right here to pick you up."

"Promise?"

"Ja."

"And you'll have pasta?"

"Lots of pasta."

Italy sniffled and wiped away a trail of tears. "In that case... Okay. I'll go." Germany just rolled his eyes. "Go on in, Italy. I'll be waiting for you right out here."

Italy fairly skipped in, thing about pasta, and cooperated nicely with the pretty blonde doctor as she strapped him down and the small Japanese guy gave him a muscle relaxant. In the past decades, Italy had grown strong as well.

He was still a spastic crybaby, though. It was part of his charm.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Italy woke up sitting at a table at an outdoor café in Rome. In front of him was a glass of wine and a bowl of angel hair spaghetti with sauce and meatballs. "Ve!"Italy cheered. He grabbed his fork and dug into the little bowl of heaven.

WHAM

Italy screamed as a wall of force barreled into him and knocked the pasta away from him. In the process, the table and Italy's chair fell over so Italy landed on his butt. "My pasta!

A figure, presumably the thing that knocked him over, was hunched over the bowl and shoving the food down his throat. It turned to glance at Italy, who froze upon seeing the stranger's face.

The figure looked emaciated. His cheekbones stuck out over his hollow cheeks. His eyes were dark brown and burning with hungry violence. "Not enough food," he rasped. Italy shrank back. "W- What?" "Not enough food for my family." The man abruptly stopped talking. He had spotted something behind Italy, and hi gaunt complexion turned even paler. "Why isn't there enough food?" Italy asked. "Ask _him_," the stranger spat. "He's back.""Who's back?" Italy cried. The stranger only turned tail and sprinted at breakneck speed down the street.

At this point, Italy's face was very pale, his knees were shaking, and his palms slick with enough sweat to be used as oil. He hadn't seen a man that desperate since...

Italy slowly turned on his heel to see what the pasta thief had run away from.

A tall man with smile lines around his eyes and flabby cheeks smiled down at him. "Feliciano," he rumbled with a smile. "It's been so long.""Ben... Benito?"

he Italian fascist grinned at him. :Feliciano, friend, look at what this country has become!" He swept his arm to gesture at Rome. The streets were dirty with dust and litter. Flowers in boxes had wilted. A few buildings were beginning to show signs of decay. "Feliciano, trust me again. I will make all of this better. I will construct a new Rome, and a new Italy. A better one, a more prosperous one. The poorest Italian will never go hungry!" Feliciano wished he would stop saying his name.

"Oh, Feliciano... You're all dirty." True, Italy had felt limy since laying eyes on his former boss, but he didn't realize he was making his feeling so obvious. Mussolini reached for Italy's hand and held it, lifting it for them both to see. Italy' hand was smudged with dirt. "allow me to clean it for you. That man has touched you, made you unclean," Mussolini half- ordered, half asked. Italy nodded mutely.

Mussolini guided him to the side of the café where a tap stuck out of the wall. As Mussolini bent down to twist the knob, Italy's eyes turned a malicious purple. "Odd, this knob seems t be a bit stuck..."

Italy pulled his pistol out from its hiding place in his belt behind his back. He aimed carefully at Mussolini's neck and pulled the trigger.

As soon as the fascist's body hit the ground, Italy's eyes faded back to their usual honey- brown. He looked down at the body at his feet, face void of expression. "Mai piu," he told the copse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Italy came to. The scientists watched him warily as he wordlessly let himself out. As promised, Germany was waiting for him outside in his jeep. "Take me home, Ludwig," Italy said flatly after strapping himself in. "But Italia, I brought pasta-"

"I'm not in the mood."

Germany did the smart thing and shut up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Uh... That was Feliciano, right? Not his brother?"

"That was definitely Feliciano."

"What did we just witness? What was he purple- vision thing?"

"I believe that in the high- stress situation, Italy subconsciously reverted to his Mafioso side cope with the return of Mussolini."

"That's an acceptable answer. How well do you think he dealt wit that?"

"Well, it was... efficient. Decisive."

"Cold- blooded."

"That too, but in the face of that kind of man, I'm willing to let it slide."

"I move to see Feliciano as still fit to be a nation."

"I second that."

"I agree."

"Fantastic. Next!"

* * *

**A/N: So today I became an expert on Mussolini and fascism. Tomorrow, it's Germany's turn. This will be fun.**

**Love you guys! Thanks for the PMs, reviews, favorites, follows and reds. See you later!**

**Roxy**


	11. Chapter 11

**Fear of a Nation**

**Germany's Session**

**All the time Ludwig was taking Italy home, Italy was staring out the window with his mouth set in a hard line- with his eyes open. It freaked him out. He didn't attempt to ask what happened in there. Italy would not react well.**

**That night, Italy fell asleep beside his brother, who wrapped himself around him protectively. For the first time in awhile, Germany went to bed by himself. The silence was not helping his sense of foreboding. What the hell happened?**

**He would soon find out. He had volunteered to go next, and his session would start tomorrow.**

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Germany found himself in a small stone room with a shower head poking out of the ceiling. The shower head hissed, but no water came out. After only a few moments, Ludwig was feeling light- headed. He tried to suck in air, and there was none. He put his arm over his nose and mouth and took small breaths. Then he began searching for an escape. There was a door, and he tried to open it, but it was locked.**

**He threw his shoulder against it and made a dent in the thin metal. He did it again and some air leaked into the chamber. He took a gulp of it like a fish out of water. With one more shove, the door broke off it's hinges, and Germany climbed over the sharp metal to get out. He took deep breaths of the fresh air until the dizziness left him and he could think clearly again.**

**When clarity returned to him, he took in his surroundings. Ice formed in the pit of his stomach.**

**There were many, many showers. It was almost like the entire dark, brick building was made for these showers. What really scared him was the fact that every shower had an occupant he could see through clear glass.**

**In the first shower, the one closest to him, was Italy. He was pale and still, body crumpled where it fell and the shower head was hissing. Without hesitation, Germany put his boot through the glass, which shattered and rained down to the cement floor. Germany quickly pulled Italy out of the chamber into the dank, but nontoxic, air.**

**In the next shower was Japan. Germany gently lay Italy down so he could smash the glass and rescue Japan. Japan was unconscious as well. Germany lay him down and felt for a pulse.**

**Tears sprung to his eyes when he found none.**

**Quickly he turned to Italy and felt his neck for signs of life. A faint fluttering was under the layers of skin. With the knowledge that Italy was safe, Germany ran down the hall, looking into the showers. There were bodies inside, but none he recognized. A few still stirred under the shower head.**

**Germany's light- headedness returned along with inability to catch his breath. He dismissed it as stress, until his lungs began burning. "Dummkopf," he muttered. The gas was leaking into the fresh air from Italy and Japan's death showers. At this rate, he and Italy would certainly be dead by the time he freed the others trapped in the showers.**

**He gnashed his teeth. How could he leave them?**

**How could he put Italy's life at risk?**

**He went back to Italy and slung him over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Japan." With Italy over his shoulder, Germany went to search for an exit. After about thirty feet of getting more light- headed and generally miserable from the lack of air, Germany found a door and flung it open. His quickly slipped in and shut the door behind him. He fumbled for the light switch in the pitch- dark room and found it. He flipped it on and saw some blankets on the ground by his feet. He stuffed it in between the room and the hall to keep the gas out. When he straightened up, a sharp pain made itself present on his scalp.**

**"Ouch.." He looked up to see what had hit him. Whatever it was slid down to rest on his shoulder. He reached up and grabbed it. In his palm was a tiny gold Star of David on a matching chain. "Oh shit... Not this again, please, not this..." He muttered in German. He heard a noise. He tilted his head to hear it better.**

**Clinking noises, like small wind chimes. That was what he was hearing. Ludwig turned to investigate the noise, and his jaw dropped open.**

**There were rows and rows of hooks on the walls and on suspended planks with hooks on them, each a few feet apart. On these hooks were Star of David pendents. There must have been millions, and Germany gazed at them all. He couldn't see the ceiling. He looked down at the one in his palm.**

**Under his hand, he noticed that the floor was red. He looked from side to side in confusion. On his left, the floor was black. On his right, yellow. Another sharp pain introduced itself to Germany's scalp. To the floor clattered another Star of David. He bent down to pick it up off the dirty floor with a pang in his heart.**

**Next to him, another necklace fell. And another. And another. The volume of the clinking increased, and became more like jangling. The whole room started to shake with the might of an earthquake. A suspended beam with necklaces collapsed. The gold pendents clanged to the floor. Germany picked Italy back up and pressed his back into the door from which he came in. As if part of a chain reaction, other beams fell and necklaces pooled around his boots. They continued to fall.**

**It was reminiscent of the Titanic. The level of necklaces, not the level of water, threatened to suffocate Germany. In almost no time at all, Germany was screaming and the necklaces were chest- level. "Italia, wake up!" He screamed at Italy. He couldn't stand being alone in this anymore. No response from the cheerful Italian. Germany took Italy's body off his shoulders and lay him on top of the necklaces, which were compact enough to hold his weight. Germany shook Italy. "Italia!" Italy's head fell limply to the side.**

**Dead.**

**Must've died while he was looking for this room, Germany realized. He choked on a sob. "Italy, I'm so sorry..."**

**The necklaces piled on top of Italy and soon covered his form. Germany stared vacantly as the stars went up to his neck... His jaw... His nose... The top of his hair. They pressed on his eyes, dug into his skin, and caught in the hair on his arms.**

**He fancied that they whispered to him. The golden stars whispered hateful things. Things he deserved to hear. He should have died at Auschwitz or one of the other death camps. Not them. Not those innocent people. The stars told him things about himself that he didn't want to hear. He relished in the pain those words caused him, hoping it would atone for his actions. He knew it never would, though.**

**Xxxxxxxxxx**

**As soon as his eyes opened, Germany got out of there. Needless to say, he was feeling a bit sick. He needed Italy. He needed him now. He wanted to hold him and know that he was okay.**

**Xxxxxxxx**

**"That was disturbing."**

**"No kidding."**

**"Yep. Milan, put a mark next to his name."**

**"Right..."**

* * *

**I sincerely apologize for the suckiness, but I'm in a hurry. I hope you enjoy it anyway, though, and I'll do Romano next.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Almost had a sroke when I saw all the reviews, follows, favs and PMs. Really. Sorry I didn't have this up yesterday. Yesterday was a bad day for me. Anyway, here you go!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
Romano's Session

It was bad enough when Feliciano came home with glazed- over eyes and a haunted expression. It got worse when Potato Bastard got home in a similar state. "You can't sleep with me," Romano warned him when Ludwig showed up at his door. Germany shook his head. "I just came to take Feliciano home. How is he?"

Romano glared at him. "He was getting better until you disappeared for five days." Ludwig's eyes widened. "Five days? What?!" Romano pointed to the kitchen timer in response. "I though it was only a few hours," Germany said faintly.  
"Doitsu!"

Feliciano edged around his brother and flung himself into Germany's arms. "Doitsu, are you okay? Was it horrible for you too?" Germany nodded and smoothed Feliciano's unruly hair back. "I'm fine, Italy. I promise it's over now." Germany sniffed the air. "Italia, did you make wurst?"  
"Si! Wurst with fettuccine!" Italy cheered. "Just for you, in case you came back."

Germany smiled at Feliciano, and Feliciano pulled him inside. While they chattered, Romano's phone started ringing. "Ciao," he said, still glaring at Germany. "Romano Vargas?"  
"Si, that's me."  
"Your turn is tomorrow."  
"Nine o clock?"  
"Yep."  
"I'll be there."  
"Great. See you later."  
"Ciao."

Romano grumbled to himself while Potato Bastard praised his brother's cooking. He sent Ludwig a look that clearly stated, "Do anything I don't like and I will slowly castrate you," which Ludwig pretended not to see.

Romano went to bed early, soon after Ludwig took Feliciano home. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He had an idea of what was in store for him, but he didn't like it.

He didn't like much of anything these days.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ciao." Romano said as a way of announcing himself. The American doctor looked up from his notes. "Mr. Vargas. Have a seat, please." Romano followed his directive and slipped his own wrists into the dense restraints.

"I thought there were three of you," Romano stated, looking around the room. "Yeah, Doctors Yakazowi and Milan are taking a break." Romano nodded sarcastically. "Taxing job?" The American shrugged. "You guys are a special breed. We don't have the capacity to feel as you do. Fear being the most intense emotion, we have... Problems dealing with the intensity of your fears."

"Picking through our brains isn't as much fun as you thought it would be?" Dr. Miller snorted. "We never thought it would be fun." Romano's brow creased. "Than why are you here?"  
"Progress," Miller answered promptly. "A stronger nation contributes to a stronger world. A stronger human race."  
"For your own benefit, then," Romano summed up. Miller shrugged.

"I'm going to inject you with the serum now," he warned him. "Thanks for the heads- up," Romano grumbled. "No problem. And... We aren't supposed to tell you this. Honestly, there's no point, but you should know that once you go into the dream- like state, you won't remember this conversation. You won't be able to tell the difference between the illusion and reality." Romano looked at the man with a new respect. "Thanks for the info," he said.

Romano blacked out.

Xxxxxxxxx

The first thing Romano noticed when his consciousness came back was an unsteady rocking motion. He opened his eyes.

He was on a horse that was being led on a rope by another horse with a rider in front of him. He recognized the rider. "Antonio!" He called. "Where are we going?" The Spaniard turned his head slightly to glance at Romano. He didn't answer him. "Antonio?"

Unease pitted in Romano's stomach. He noticed Spain's clothes; red with golden threads, in the style of way back when in the times that now seemed ancient... He was startled by that thought. Ancient? It was perfectly acceptable attire for the year

The sky was a beautiful cloudless blue over the gently rolling green hills. Romano didn't really want to ask Spain again where they were going, so he just say quietly and let his horse carry him forward.

It seemed as if they plodded through the green blades of grass for hours before they came across another pair of horses with riders. The pair stopped about fifty yards away from them. Romano blinked. "Feliciano?" Feliciano heard him and waved cheerfully. "Ciao, mio fratello!" Feliciano was a child! With a quick look down his own body, he realized that he was a child too. Except he wasn't wearing a maid's dress... Romano's gaze was drawn to the tight- lipped figure in blue behind his brother.

Austria?

"You've got your trade, Spain. Hand him over," Austria called. "Trade?" Romano thought. Feliciano looked up at Austria. "Austria, do I really have to go with him? Why can't I stay with you?" Austria glared down at Feliciano. "Would you like to stay with me?" He asked dangerously. Feliciano wavered. He didn't answer.  
Antonio swung his leg over and slid off his horse. Roderich took this as a signal to also slide off his mare. Antonio, without facing Romano, beckoned him to follow.

Romano was paralyzed. Leave Spain? To live with Piano Bastard? "No," he said. Antonio stopped in his tracks and one of his eyebrows rose. "What was that, Roma?"

"I'm not going with him! I want to stay with you," Romano said stubbornly. Spain barked an uncharacteristically mirthless laugh. He went over to Romano's horse and pulled him down from the horse roughly. The Italian yelped indignantly and threw a glare at Spain that he didn't see. "I can't deal with it anymore, Roma. I've got enough problems without you being stubborn and not cute on top of that."

Spain ended up pulling Romano across the grassy clearing by his upper arm. When they got to Feliciano and Roderich, Spain shoved Romano towards them. He hissed and tripped over his own feet, regaining his balance at the last second. Austria gripped Romano's shoulder tightly. Feliciano made no move to Spain, and Roderich made no move to force him over.

Spain waited expectantly. "All right, Roderich. You have your prize. Give me mine-"

Roderich whipped out a long pistol and fired it. Blood spurted from Spain's chest and he crumpled to the grass that Romano had admired on the horse ride here. The grass was unappealing when stained with his lover's blood. Romano screamed, as did his brother. He violently jerked to escape from Roderich's grip, but Roderich only twisted his shoulder around, using him like some kind of human shield. "Two Italies are unnecessary," the Austrian hissed. He fired at Feliciano.

Romano was paralyzed and feeling helpless. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his lifeless brother, still wearing that stupid maid's outfit, black, white, and now red.

Romano's eyes turned gray.

With an unnaturally powerful flip of his wrist, Romano latched on to Austria's forearm and flipped him over with one hand. Austria was thrown over Romano to the ground. He landed on his back, air knocked out of him. He wheezed something, lifting his pistol. Without giving him a chance to plead or bargain or sneer, he stepped hard on the man's throat. When he heard a crunch and saw the light leave Austria's eyes, he removed his foot and sat down in the grass, staring at the green and red of the earth.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Romano sat bolt upright, gasping and panting. "Hush, South Italy. It's over. Calm down," the blonde doctor tried to sooth him. With a growl, Romano jumped out of his seat and jabbed a finger into the man's chest. "Who knows about this little project of yours?" He demanded. The blonde raised his hands defensively and swallowed. "I can't tell you that."

"You just went into my personal feelings and played them like a violin. Who else knows about this? Who else will see that?" He violently pointed a finger at a monitor, which was playing the last few minutes of his nightmare. "Tell me!"

The scientist seemed to realize that Romano had a point. He pushed up his glasses. "Only I, Doctors Milan and Yakazowi, and my Secretary of Defense know." Romano stared at him suspiciously. "Four people and the test subjects? That's all?"

Miller looked at him very seriously. "This is a very secret project," he said simply. Any trace of merriness in his eyes from earlier had vanished in his earnestness. Romano stared at him hard for a few moments, and backed off, deciding that even if he was lying, he wasn't giving up anyone else. He left the chamber that he called "Hell" in his mind and took the subway home instead of calling Spain. He needed some time alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miller, Milan, and Yakazowi met up via video conference a few hours later. "While the stimulus was going on, Romano was ineffectual, though provided opportunity to escape. His only effective response to the stimulus was after his boyfriend and brother had already died. Revenge seems to be an instinct to him more than a decision," Miller finished his report. Milan and Yakazowi intently watched the video feeds and winced simultaneously when the bones in Austria's neck snapped.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Miller, but this doesn't necessarily mean that his is damaged," Milan contributed. "What about Roderich's comment that two Italies were unnecessary? Is he depressed?" Yakazowi asked. Milan shrugged. "We could schedule an interview later. Now we need to make a decision. The Secretary is getting impatient," she added, giving Miller a look. Miller didn't even blink, just scrolled through his notes to find something to discuss. "Why was his brother in a maid's outfit?" He asked. His colleagues shrugged. "We can ask that at the interview. In the mean time, send for the next subject. Miller, you take a break this time. Yakazowi and I will handle this." Miller looked up, surprised. "Really?" The woman nodded.

"Thanks, Milan. I need a rest."  
"Go take one. This is... Different from what we usually deal with." Miller and Yakazowi nodded in agreement. "Good night, guys. I'll be back in two days."

* * *

**A/N: I may have something up tomorrow, I hope. If not tomorrow, definitely the day after. Thanks for all the support, guys. I couldn't do this without you. Also, from here on out, the plot should be getting mch more interesting. That's all I'm saying.**

**Ciao!**

**Roxy**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Bleh it's like 1:30 in the morning and I'm just updating this... I love you guys, I really do. Thanks to zoewinter1 for her continued support of this fic. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
Wales' Session

Wales was cordially invited by a pleasant- sounding man to attend his testing. At least that's how Wales like to think of it. What really happened was more like a shrill and insistent ringing at six in the morning, and a voice on the other end telling him that they were expecting him at nine. 'Why nine?' He wondered.

Anyway, he decided to ignore his usual distaste for alcohol in favor of a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves.  
The golden liquid slipped down his throat down into his gut like a serpent. He wrinkled his nose at the taste and the burn of the alcohol.

He would remember that burn later.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Where's the technician?" Wales asked the blonde and the Japanese scientists. "Dr. Miller is taking a much- needed rest," Dr. Milan said lightly. "He'll be back soon." Dylan paused for a moment. "Um..." He said. He trailed off, not sure if he should ask. "Is something wrong?" Dr. Yakazowi asked. "I was wondering... My brother, Arthur... Did he pass?"

Dr. Milan gave him a sad smile. "We can't disclose any information about of patients. However... Yakazowi, Arthur Kirkland was patient number three, right?" Yakazowi checked on his tablet. "Yes, he was." Milan nodded. "Again, we can't disclose any information on the test subjects, but I can say that at this moment, only a few subjects have given us reason for concern this far. We are still discussing how the results affect the patients."

Wales just nodded and noted how easy it was for her to switch from the word "patients" to "test subjects". 'Are we sick, or experiments?' He wondered. He didn't ask.

Restraints and extra drugs were unnecessary, and Dylan fell under the influence of the drugs as if falling into a peaceful sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wales stirred awake with a stretch. His body felt different somehow, like it was just a series of flexible muscles that coiled and sprang to his whim. Out of the corner of his eye, something flicked. It was a tail, slender, but powerful like a whip. It led to a scale- covered, strong ridged back. His back. Wales released a very happy growl.

He was a dragon.

His scales were the color of blood, and shiny as the surface of his seas. He marveled at them, amazed at his body. He hadn't felt this good in centuries. He had a feeling that he could break the peak of the cliff he sat on.

The rough rock of the cliff face he clung to with taloned claws overlooked the blue- gray sea. The water slapped against the shore. Wales breathed in the salty air and savored it. It had been too long since he visited the sea.

Behind him, he heard the deafening beating of hooves. He shifted to face the new dragon and took a few steps away from to edge of the cliff.

This beast was larger than him, he could tell. The white unicorn that galloped towards him glittered even in the half- sunlight. The hooves left little imprints where they struck the ground, and it gave a snort in acknowledgment to Wales. Something caught it's attention, and Wales followed it's eyes.

A stag was cantering to the duo. It had a sleek coat that covered powerful muscles and antlers that looked deadly. It was about the size of Wales. It hardly acknowledged them. It only lined up with the other two and waited, gazing at the lush green landscape. Apparently they were waiting. So Wales, in his magical beastly form, turned his attention to the horizon.

Soon, Wales' magical far- seeing eyes caught glimpse of a glint of gold, leaping its way over the blades of grass to the trio. As it drew closer, Wales could see that it was a magnificent, powerfully muscled lion as large as the unicorn. It's mane flowed around it's face and neck. When it got to the other three creatures, it reared its head and roared.

At a signal that Wales must have missed, the unicorn and the stag pushed off powerful hind legs and sprung at the lion. The lion roared again, but more of a pleased roar than before. The unicorn charged first, horn pointed directly at the lion's heart. The lion stood on it's hind legs and used his huge paws to bring the unicorn down by forcing the creature's head down onto the ground. The rest of the body followed, and the unicorn whinnied in anger.

Then the stag charged, taking it's opportunity while the lion was occupied. It ducked it's head, probably to use its antlers to pierce the lion's flesh. The lion simply rolled away from the stag, and the stag, having misjudged its velocity, tripped over the body of the unicorn and went sprawling. The lion seemed bored with the vulnerable beasts now, and turned its attention to Wales, who's tail nervously flicked back and forth like a cat's. The lion began circling Wales, while Wales did its best to turn with it and anticipate the lion's next move.

As the two animals performed the dance as old as time (the dance of death), Wales could see the unicorn shimmer, shrink, and become his brother, Scotland. Wales tore his eyes away to keep watch on the lion... And let his eyes wander back to the broken body of the stag. The stag shimmered in the semi- dark of the cloudy sky and shrank to the form of Ireland. A sensation akin to swallowing alcohol seared his long neck and he spit fire at the lion, who only nimbly loped a meter away and kept stalking.

The lion suddenly paused and shifted it's body. Wales' body mirrored the lion's in response to the sudden change in the lion's stance.

The lion flowed forward like gold water, nearly entrancing Wales. Suddenly Wales saw the hind muscles of the lion's legs coil. Wales lifted his head and roared to warn it off. The lion sprung forward as a flash of shimmering yellow- straight for Wales' throat.

Wales' warning roar choked and gurgled in his throat. Blood spurted from his scaly neck over the lion's teeth and mane. The spinal cord in Wales' throat snapped, and without his brain keeping his body together, Wales collapsed. He felt his body return to it's normal form. He struggled for breath and momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his little brother, Arthur, was standing over him, smiling with crimson teeth.

"Mine," Arthur said with a mad grin. Wales glared at him fiercely and thought, since he couldn't speak. "I am Wales. As long as my people live, they will be Welsh."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wales snapped awake with a shudder and bile rising in his throat. He automatically reached up to make sure that there were no extra holes...  
"Well done, Dylan." Dr. Milan praised him. Dylan nodded numbly. "Dylan... Why don't you call your brothers? There's a phone down the hall."

"Thank you," Dylan said.

Dylan took the stairs instead of the elevator, wanting to go slow for a few minutes. He found the phone in the lobby and slipped in two American quarters. The phone rang twice before Arthur answered. "Hello?"

Dylan swallowed and consciously put cheer in his voice. "Hey, little brother. Hey, listen. Want to come over to my house for drinks?" He could practically hear Arthur's hesitance. "Sure, Dylan. I'll be there." Wales smiled. "Thanks, Arthur. We've got some things to talk about."  
"Oh!" Arthur suddenly exclaimed. "I nearly forgot! Have you see South Italy, by any chance?"

Wales blinked in surprise. "Who, Romano? No, why?"  
"North Italy and Germany were calling all around last night. Romano never came home from his session." Wales' brow creased. "What?" Arthur plowed on. "They found security tapes of him getting on the subway, but after that, nothing. Feliciano's in a panic, as you can imagine." He could imagine.

"Are you still at the... Place?" Arthur asked. "Yeah," Wales told him. "Okay... Come home now. This is making me nervous." Wales agreed. "Is someone picking you up?"  
"Scotland is."  
"Great. See you later."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Defiance in the face of death shows nationalism and willingness to survive. He's cleared, as far as I'm concerned."

"I found nothing here to raise concern. I second this motion."

"Hold on..."

"What?"

"This phone conversation between Wales and England downstairs..."

*recording plays* "North Italy and Germany were calling all around last night. Romano never came home from his session." *Click*

"Damn, thy noticed that quickly..."

"Now what?"

"What do you mean, 'now what?' this doesn't change anything. Focus on what we're doing and play dumb. I'll just tell them they need to hurry with him."

"Fine. While you're talking with them, tell them to be more subtle next time.:

'Will do."

* * *

**A/N: So, who's ready for Egypt?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Okay, I know I said I would Egypt next, but I had this idea for Israel and I'm still not sure what to do with Egypt, so here you go!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
Israel's Session

The news of the disappearance of Romano Vargas reached the other countries as if the news was posted on the Internet. The news didn't make to countries too eager to begin their testing (as if they were eager to begin with). Germany, Prussia, Russia, and America searched the whole subway system and areas surrounding it, with no trace of the rude Italian. There wasn't even a tape that showed Romano getting off the subway, and he couldn't still be on it because it had been three days since he disappeared. He would have had to get off at some point.

Israel was summoned to the office building where the process was taking place. She was torn between taking her gun and trusting her physical prowess to get her out of any trouble that might come up. As she was getting ready to go, she got a request to video- conference by Alfred. She straightened her techel and tapped the accept option.

Alfred appeared on her screen with dark circles under his eyes and messier hair than normal. He gave her a tired grin. "Hey, Tirtza! I heard you were next to go to the chopping block!" She rolled her eyes at him. "It's a test, Alfred, not the Hunger Games." She squinted at him. "Have you lost weight?" She asked. Alfred stiffened. "I don't know, why?"  
'Still self- conscious about your weight, I see,' Tirtza thought. "You look sick," she told him. "When was the last time you ate?" She asked him.

"Uh..." He had to think about it. "Like... Two days ago? I don't know." Tirtza glared at him. "What did I tell you about heroes?" She asked sternly. "Heroes are no good if they don't take care of themselves." Alfred mumbled. "Exactly." Alfred suddenly perked up. "Do you have a ride?" He asked. "Well, I was going to take my Jeep there and back, but you sound like you have another idea." Alfred nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! How about I pick you up from Dr. Frankenstein and Co's place and I take you to the new park in D. C!"

His enthusiasm was contagious, and Tirtza started smiling too. "That sounds fun," she admitted. "Cool! I'll see you later."  
"Bye, Alfred."  
"Bye!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tirtza Ariel?" A kind- looking Japanese man asked when she pushed open the door to the sterile white chamber. "Yes."  
"Wonderful. Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair that looked like a dentist's recliner. "Actually, I have some questions first."  
Yakazowi raised an eyebrow. Miller and Milan exchanged a look. "What happened to Romano Vargas?" She asked. She held her breath. The Japanese man had a smile plastered on his face.

"Mr. Vargas came here for the process and then left. We do not have any knowledge of what happened to him after leaving the office."

Uneasily, but realizing she wasn't going to get any further information, Israel allowed the three scientists to strap her down and feed her the drugs. Her earrings felt heavy on her ears, and heaviness spread throughout her limbs until her eyelids slid shut.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Familiar heat beat down on Israel's back. Her head covering kept the worst of the heat off the back of her neck and hair. Sand crunched and shifted under her sandals. Black mourning garments hung around her form. She furrowed her brow at the scene before her.

Black smoke billowed into the azure blue sky. Fire lapped up at a pile that was six meters tall. She gazed at it, unsure of what to do. She searched the blaze with her eyes to identify something, anything. She saw a cloth poking out from under a metal thing. It was white with a blue stripe. She internally flinched and kept looking. She noticed a scrap of white and green fabric.

She swallowed. Why were her and Palestine's flags in a pyre?

Someone tugged on her sleeve. She looked down with a startled jerk of her arm. A little boy with huge brown eyes looked up at her with a serious expression. He couldn't be more than eight years old. "Shalom," she said cautiously. The boy shook his head. "One left," the boy said. Tirtza's brow creased. The boy, seeing her look, pointed to her left. She followed his line of sight.

A little girl in a pink nightgown with long chocolatey hair and a Star of David pendent. She clutched a teddy bear in one hand and a gun in the other. "One more...?" Horror dawned on Tirtza as she realized what the boy was talking about. She looked back to the flaming heat and finally, finally saw the arm hanging out of it.

The boy let his overcoat slide to the sand. Under his jacket, strapped to his chest, was a bomb with wires. He held a small box in his hand that Tirtza recognized as a dead- man's switch. Tirtza let out a strangled cry. "Do not let go of that switch, child. Hold on, I'll help you out of it-"  
"NO!" The boy shouted at her. He waved the switch around, forcing her to take a step back. "She must die! She is the last rat standing!"

Tirtza looked back to the little girl. The girl was training the gun that looked ridiculous in her tiny hand on the boy. Their eyes were locked on each other. "Don't..." Tirtza begged. Her voice rose hysterically. "My children, don't kill each other!"

Silence.

The only thing Tirtza could hear was her own beating heart. Her throat was tight with tears and fear.

The little boy let out a fearsome shout and dropped the remote at the same time as the small girl released a panicked shriek and pulled the trigger. A hole appeared in the boy's forehead and his head snapped back as his little body erupted into flames. The force of the blast blew back the girl four feet. She landed on her head and was still.

Israel let out a raw wail and rushed to the girl. She cradled the limp child in her arms and buried her face in her hair, sobbing. She scooted over, carrying the girl in her arms to the boy, who was badly burned and also dead.

With the two children in her arms she rocked and cried. A hand appeared on her shoulder. She ignored it. "Tirtza," Alfred's voice said softly. "I'm so sorry." She only sobbed harder. Alfred gathered Israel in his arms and held her, hushing her and rubbing her back.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Tirtza woke up with very wet eyes and cheeks. The blonde doctor escorted her to the front door. Both women hiccuped.

"Tirtza?"

She made a strange strangled sound when Alfred's concerned voice reached her. "Hey, hey! What happened?"  
"It was so real!" She sobbed into his jacket. "Shh, shh. Let's get in the Jeep and you can tell me all about it."

Tirtza nodded and hiccuped again.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"She knows she has a support system. She's clear."

The other two wisely didn't argue with the blonde physician.

* * *

**A/N: Unfortunately, the events in Israel's hallucination are based off real stories of the Israeli- Arab conflict in Israel. Palestinian children in terrorist groups are taught that becoming a martyr is a great thing. Some even look forward to it. **

**Everything our society does has an impact on our children. If we carry on the way we have been, this chapter might as well be a prophecy. **

**I may or may not have cried writing this.**

**Due to the circumstances of my living situation, the next time I post will be on Thursday, if not then, than Monday. I will have chapters by then. Please be patient, guys. I'm not thrilled with it either.**

**Roxy**


	15. Chapter 15

**Fear of a Nation**  
Egypt's Session

Ludwig and Feliciano woke with a start. There was a loud pounding on their door. Ludwig slipped out of bed, suddenly wide awake, and pulled on a black wife beater over his shirtless torso. He pulled on a pair of jeans and his pistol from his nightstand. "Stay here, Italia," he warned Italy. Italy whimpered in fear. Ludwig flicked the safety off the gun and crept down the hall to the door like a silent, well- armed, well- trained cat.

He peered through the peephole, and, seeing nothing, stowed the gun in his waistband and opened the door. An unconscious Romano fell into his arms, and Ludwig barely caught him with a grunt. "Italia!" He yelled. Italy poked his head out from around the corner and shrieked upon seeing his brother. He dashed over to Germany and starting shaking Romano. "Romano! Fratello, wake up! Fratello!"

"Italy, move aside, we need to take him to the guest bedroom..." Romano was stirring a little bit. He struggled to open his eyes, but they remained closed. Italy's voice was rising hysterically. "Doitsu! We have to call Spain, Spain's been worried sick looking for Romano!" At the mention of Spain, Romano's eyes opened forcefully. "No," he rasped hoarsely. "Fratello!"

Romano weakly shook his head. "Don't call Spain, not yet. He's got enough to worry about... I don't want him to see me like this." Ludwig was taken aback by Romano's selflessness, but decided as he tucked Romano in between the sheets of the spare bed, not to comment on it.

"We'll give you the rest of the day to recover, but after that, we're calling Spain," Ludwig said sternly. "Grazie," Romano said faintly before falling back asleep. It didn't surprise Ludwig that that short conversation was all it took to wear out the rude Italian.

Feliciano worriedly hung around his brother, not knowing what to do, but wanting to help. "Come over here, Feliciano. Let him sleep. He needs to rest and recover from what he's been through." Feliciano gulped. "W- what he's been through?" Ludwig nearly rolled his eyes. He pointed out the purple and green bruises on Romano's arms, his pallid complexion, and the more prominent cheekbones that showed evidence of recently lost weight.

"I think whoever did this was really mad at Romano," Italy fretted. "What do you think, Doitsu?" Germany kept his gaze on the sleeping man. "I think we all need to be very careful from now on, Feliciano."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Egypt was led to the sterile white room where the process would take place. Milan smiled at him when he arrived and gestured for him to sit down in the dentist- recliner thing. Before he did, he asked them point- blank: "What happened to South Italy?" Milan's smile got tight, along with her eyes.

"Romano Vargas? He came here for his testing and left. We heard he had gone missing. Maybe he went back to Italy?" Milan suggested. Egypt noticed the slight twitch in her jaw and decided to just leave it alone for now.

He looked at the other two scientists. The Japanese man had very dark, bruise- like circles under his eyes. The American rubbed his eyes and took a note on his tablet. Egypt felt trepidation creeping up on him; he was trusting his mental and physical well- being to two exhausted and one creepy scientist. He kept a sigh at bay and took his seat.

He allowed himself to relax and slipped under the influence of the powerful drugs.

It seemed that he had only blinked. He felt hazy, and didn't remember anything. Yakazowi was uncomfortably close to his face and shining a light in his eyes. The chattering in the background became more discernible. "What did you do?" Yakazowi snapped. "Nothing! I hooked him up, the dermal anesthetic went into effect, and the concentrated lysergic acid diethylamide followed the anesthetic's path. That's it."

"There has to be something wrong with the power supply, or the nerve receptors!"

At the mention of nerve receptors, Miller's shoulders tensed and his jaw slammed shut. For a moment, Yakazowi seemed to realize he'd- if you'll forgive the choice of wording- hit a raw nerve himself. Wariness flashed in Milan's eyes as well. "The nerve receptors are fine." Miller ground out slowly. "So is the power supply. What ever's wrong, it's nothing to do with the technology. Maybe you miscalculated the dosage," he added maliciously.

Yakazowi drew back as if Miller had slapped him. "You two, shut up. I think... I think he's too old to have a specific greatest fear. The drug can't pick out a single fear without inviting the other ones into the hallucination. That'd override the systems in the lab and in HIM." The two men seemed to accept this, but still glared coldly at each other.

"Can I leave?" Egypt asked. Milan kept her eyes on her colleagues while answering him. "Come back in tomorrow for an interview. For now, you can go."

Egypt hurried down the stairs to his desert- camo colored Jeep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spain flung the door open to Germany's house. "You've had him here all day and decide to only call me half an hour ago?!" He demanded of Ludwig. "We wanted to give him time to recover before seeing anyone," Ludwig explained. Spain would have retorted, if Ludwig's response had concerned anything besides Romano's well- being. So instead he brushed past Ludwig to the spare bedroom where Romano was waiting.

Ludwig and Italy exchanged a look. "I told you, Doitsu," Italy fretted. Germany rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen to finish his beer, with Italy on his heels.

Spain's heart nearly failed when he saw his precious Roma pale and frail- looking on the bed, propped up by pillows. He opted to smile at him. "Hola, Roma. Where have you been? You worried me!" Romano tried to smile back. Spain lifted the sheets and slid into the bed with Romano. Romano snuggled into Antonio's chest, and Antonio put his arm around him to keep him close. "Antonio," he muttered. "What? No 'Tomato Bastard'?" Antonio asked teasingly. Romano turned a bit pink. "Shut up, Tomato Bastard."

The two sat in silence for a while, Romano listening to Antonio's heartbeat through his shirt, Antonio feeling the rise and fall of Romano's chest on his side. Antonio waited until Romano was relaxed. "Romano, what happened while you were away?" He asked in a soft, pleading, irresistible tone. He felt Romano tense for a moment. "I don't remember," he said. "It's okay, Roma, mi amor, you can tell me." He felt Romano shake his head.

"I really don't remember, Antonio. I remember getting on the subway, and then I was on Potato Bastard's doorstep. That's all."

Antonio was silent for a moment. He pulled Romano a little closer and gave him a soft kiss on top of his head. "Want to watch TV?" He asked. Romano nodded, glad to have something else to concentrate on.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Egypt returned the next morning for his interview with Dr. Milan. Reluctantly. Talking to people was one thing. Talking to people about his personal feelings? Unthinkable, at least until recently. Like yesterday, he was escorted to the location of the interview. Unlike yesterday, he was brought to a cozy white room with red accents. Modern furniture decorated the room, a white sofa with red pillows and a painting of a red orchid adorned the wall.

He took his seat in the sofa with the red pillows, and to his relief, it didn't make him sleepy. He waited for about ten minutes before Milan arrived. He was taken aback by her appearance; before he had only seen her with her hair in a tight, severe bun, a lab coat, and black slacks and a button- down shirt under the lab coat. Today, her hair was down to her shoulders and slightly curled, and she wore a crimson blazer with a matching skirt and shoes.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Mr. Egypt. I had an appointment, and I did not believe it would take as long as it did." Bright blue eyes bore into his own. Egypt nodded. "Coffee?" Egypt shook his head. "You don't talk a lot, do you?" Another shake of the head. "Well, I think it would be beneficial to both of us to be open, yes?" Egypt nodded. "Okay."

Milan smiled and powered up her tablet and her stylus. "Excellent. For starters, why don't we talk about Cleopatra?" Egypt felt his expression turn stony. They were beginning with that? "What do you want to know?" Egypt asked. "Describe your relationship with her." Milan suggested. "She was the ruler of my country. I don't know how to put it in human terms. I suppose the closest thing to it would be a brother/ sister relationship."

Milan jotted something down on the tablet. "All right, tell me about your mother's death." It went on like this for three hours. Cleopatra. His mother. The Italy brothers, Holy Rome, England. Do these events affect his working relationship with the other nations? No? Okay, next question.

Something about the woman put him off. Maybe it was her outfit. Maybe it was the room. Something about all the red. Red was a bad color for him, it represented the desert, lack of food, chaos.

"Mr. Egypt, you need to answer the question." Milan said. "I'm sorry, could you repeat it?" He asked. "Were you with your mother when she faded?" He shook his head. "No. I was sent a message that she had passed because I was at a regional meeting." He hated this conversation. It was making him light- headed and the air felt thick. He gulped the air down like a fish out of water.

Milan watched as his struggling became more apparent. "Breathe, Mr. Egypt," she ordered softly. The more he sucked in air, the more he became dizzy and light- headed. He glared at the doctor, who only watched him intently. Egypt ran out of oxygen and tried to stand to get out of there. His movements were clumsy, and his foot kicked a table leg. He finally collapsed with eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Milan pressed a button under the seat of her chair. The door was kicked open, and five heavily armed and bulletproof vest- adorned men spilled inside. The all had gas masks on, to which Milan rolled her eyes. "I told you, they're unnecessary. The carbon monoxide only responds to his DNA." The leader look at he doubtfully, and to prove it, Milan took a deep breath of the air and smiled at him. He pulled off the gas mask and barked orders she didn't entirely understand. The other four holstered their weapons and carried the unconscious nation out the back door.

"Five of you? For one of him? We're too spread out as it is, Captain." The captain glared at her. "I'm following orders, just like you, Dusana. Don't forget it." The captain seemed to finally take in the woman in front of him. the corner of his mouth twitched. "Interesting wardrobe." Milan grit her teeth. "The boss wanted him to be wary before you took him." The captain snorted. "That makes sense. So all the red was on purpose?" He gestured around the room. "Yes." She snapped. The captain chuckled. "Maybe you know how to follow orders after all."

Milan pursed her lips and stayed silent. "Dusana."

"Hm?" The captain smoldered her with deep green eyes. "I wish our circumstances were different." He didn't give her a chance to respond before turning his back and leaving with his squad.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Have you dropped off our first guest?"

"Yes sir, about eighteen hours ago."

"Good, good. It would have been awkward for our two guests to have met each other in our little facility."

"Yes, sir."

"You've picked up our second guest?"

"Yes sir. There was no problem in procuring him."

"Good job, Captain. You do me proud."

"Thank you, sir."

*sigh* "Go home, Captain. See your family."

"Sir, do you mean that?"

"Yes, Captain. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Be back by nine tomorrow."

"I will, sir."

"Send in my three pets on your way out, if you don't mind."

"You called us, sir?"

"Yes. I'm concerned about you three."

"Why are you concerned, sir?"

"The nations are becoming wary of these tests. One of their own disappeared for awhile."

"What would you have us do, sir?"

"Dusana, I was wondering if I would hear your voice in this little conference. I would have you keep our subjects from leaving until all your work has finished."

"... Sir, with all due respect, we don't know which subjects require additional testing until after the initial-"

"Dusana, you are an intelligent woman. Find a way."

"Yes, sir."

"Yakazowi, Miller... I had hoped the two of you would work more compatibly."

"I apologize, sir, we were both tired. We said things we didn't mean."

"See that it doesn't happen again. You are dismissed. All of you."

"Thank you, sir."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spain had been agitatedly pacing around the house, checking on Romano every few minutes, muttering to himself in Spanish. After the sun had gone down, he pulled Ludwig into the kitchen.

"What do you want, Spain?" Germany asked. He was tired. "Germany, listen. These scientists showed up out of nowhere. Seriously, no where! We were not informed of this until you told us. And you were notified by the scientists themselves! And then Roma goes missing? It's not a coincidence, Germany. We have to get to the bottom of this!"

Ludwig raised a hand to stop him. "I know, Spain. I agree with you, this affair does not... Smell right. But what should we do about it? If we refuse, they kill us-" Antonio was shaking his head. "That's another thing. How would they kill us?" Germany paused. "They could do to us what Israel's bosses did to Palestine." The two men paused, remembering the nation who had faded thirty years ago.

"We need to call a meeting. Secretly. Only a few of us, until we know more."  
"What would we do at this meeting, Spain? Argue, like we always do?" Antonio shook his head. "You saw how they behaved when you made the first announcement. Everyone wants to save their own skin, and if we convince them that collaboration is the only way to do that..."

"Fine. Call this meeting. Only a few, though. Make sure you invite America, if you leave him out of something this big, we'll never hear the end of it."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm back! Finally! Let's make some progress.**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
China's Session

Antonio paced with his chin resting on his knuckle while Alfred, Arthur, Yao, Ludwig, and Romano looked on anxiously. His nervous energy dominated the room and spread to the other nation's minds.

"Romano, tell us again. Who did Dr. Miller say knows about this project?" Romano chewed the inside of his cheek before answering, "He said it was him, the other two, and the American Secretary of Defense."  
Antonio nodded. "Why the Secretary of Defense? Why not the President? And why the American SoD?" Alfred shrugged. "My people don't know about it, and the President definitely doesn't. If she knew, I would for sure."

"This involves all the nations on the entire planet! Why does only one man who isn't even a boss know besides the people who are actually doing the work?" A thought seemed to cross Arthur's mind as Yao said this. "Who gave them authorization for this project?" He demanded.

"Guys, stop. Let's start with what we DO know," Alfred interjected. He went up to the Smartboard and picked up a marker. He made a bullet point and wrote while he talked.

"We DO know that the doctors are in the know about this project," he said. "We know that these people have the cash and resources to create the technology needed for this kind of experiment. We also know that my SoD is somehow involved," he added. Ivan contributed by saying, "They have the manpower to and kidnap Egypt. They also can take subway footage and replace it with duplicate tapes." Alfred nodded and put this on the list.

"Anything else?" Alfred asked. Ludwig, taking a psychological standing, said, "I would think that we are dealing with someone who thinks that they know what is best for the world. They are also in a position of power to do what they think is necessary to 'clean up' the world."

Alfred scribbled, 'Powerful Narcissist' on the board. "He has something on Milan," Arthur guessed. "What makes you say that?" Alfred asked, surprised. Arthur shrugged. "I could be wrong, but I do not believe that a woman like Milan would willingly participate in this sort of experiment."

Alfred wavered for a moment, then went back and put a question mark by Milan's name. He took a step back and he and the little gathering gazed at the board. "That... Isn't much," Romano observed. Alfred nodded in agreement. He put down the first marker and picked up a differently colored one. "What don't we know that we need to?" He asked.

"Who's the leader?"

"Are we dealing with a complex organization or a small group?"

"How many are there?"

"What kind of weapons do they have?"

"Slow down, I can only write so fast!"  
Alfred huffed. His hand flew across the board to get all the questions down.

"Who authorizes their projects?"

"Have they done other projects? What have they done?"

"What training do their soldiers have?"

"What are they trying to achieve?"

With this question, everyone fell silent. "What if this isn't the end? What's the ultimate goal? What do they get out of this?" Romano continued. When all the questions were down on the board, there was a thick atmosphere of tension and discomfort. "We'll have to send the next person who goes in as a spy." Ludwig finally said. "Sì, but who is next?" Antonio asked cuttingly. "I am," Yao said. "I'll find out as much as I can."

"Wait," Alfred said. He turned to a drawer and fished around, rattling things around until he pulled out a small magnetic flash drive. He held it up for the nations to see and pressed it into Yao's hand.

"Japan and I invented this," he said. "The magnet sucks in the data instead of erasing it and duplicates it, saving it to the drive. They'll never know." The other nations looked at the small drive in awe. "Cool," Antonio murmured. "Press the button when you're ready to turn it on. When it's finished, it'll give off a small buzz. Just don't let them find it, okay?" China fervently nodded.

Arthur checked the time on his watch as China slipped the drive carefully into his pocket. "It's late, guys. We'll meet again when China comes back."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

China hesitated outside the door, remembering how Romano and Egypt had been kidnapped for much less than what he was planning. He grit his teeth and steeled himself for what was next. The doors opened for him, and inside his pocket, he pressed the button on the flash drive. He remembered Ludwig's coaching the night before.

"They have equipment in there that reads your vitals before you even realize they're monitoring you. It's useless to deny feeling jittery; replace your nervousness about getting caught with nervousness about the test."

Yao tried to follow this advice when he was greeted by the Japanese man's pleasant smile and greeting. "You seem tense, Mr. China. Please relax, the test will be over shortly," the Asian tried to reassure him. Yao nodded and smiled sheepishly. "I'm a bit apprehensive," he admitted. "It's fine, Mr. China. Everyone before you was nervous," Milan assured him.

Yao felt a buzz in his pocket. "Was Russia nervous?" He asked. Milan smiled and nodded. Yao allowed himself to relax, letting them believe that this knowledge comforted him. He was ushered into the chair.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yao smelled the fresh water and bamboo leaves before ever opening his eyes. When he did, he felt relief shoot through his system.

Home.

He looked around, half- expecting something to jump out at him. When nothing did, he foraged ahead, slipping in between the tall stalks of bamboo and gently pushing some aside.

After awhile, he came to a small clearing, which was too small to really be a clearing. It was actually more like a bamboo- free circle about five feet in diameter. Sitting in the center of the circle was young Japan.

"Japan!" Yao greeted him enthusiastically. Japan just looked at him in disgust. It's strange to see a hostile expression with cute, chubby toddler cheeks. "Konnichiwa, Yao- sama." The toddler replied uninterestedly. "Japan, what are you doing out here? You shouldn't be here, it could be dangerous."

Japan heaved himself up on tiny toddler legs and stood up to his full height- and taller, and taller, and taller, until he was his normal adult height. Yao gaped. The Japan looking up at him now was a lean, muscular Japan, nothing like the Japan that he knew in any universe- and that includes the drug and fear- fueled hell universes like this one.

Japan finally let his irritated façade slip away to reveal his real emotion: Rage. "I've had enough of your imperialism," the younger nation snapped. "I want my independence!" Yao took a step back. Japan's anger was starting to overwhelm him. Japan wouldn't back off; he glared at Yao with fire burning in his dark eyes as he shifted himself in a defensive fighting stance. Did he think Yao would hit him?

"Japan..." Yao got a painful lump in his throat just saying the name. "Japan, I give you your independence. I hope that you are ready for this." Japan relaxed his unconsciously curled fists. "Thank you, China- san," Japan said stiffly. He turned and walked directly at the bamboo stalks and pushed them aside- forging his own path.

Yao stared at Japan's retreating back until he was out of view. Once he couldn't see the boy any longer, he went back the way he came. The bamboo showed no signs of being disturbed, which was odd, but not important. As he walked, the feathery leaves on the bamboo stroked his face as if to comfort him. Yao kept walking until he stumbled into another clearing, this one was even smaller and coated with blood.

Japan lay in the center of the clearing with unnaturally bent limbs and wide, shocked eyes without light in them. He had a huge gash across his ribs that was caked on the edges with dried blood. He didn't move. Yao turned away from the sight to vomit, and when he was done, he kept his gaze averted from the corpse of the child he raised.

"I'm sorry, Kiku. Next time, I'll do better."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that night, Yao drove to Alfred's "workplace", where a red haired secretary brought him to Alfred's personal office. It was dimly lit, and the light from a lonely- looking lamp on a desk illuminated the contours of the American's face.

"Here." Yao gave Alfred the drive. "Find out what these people want." Alfred looked up at him in surprise. He studied the Chinese man's expression."Yao, are you okay?" Yao waved a hand dismissively and tried to leave. "Kiku and I will go through the data on here, but if you want to talk to someone... We'll be here," he finished seriously. He noticed the slight flinch at the mention of Kiku.

"Thank you," Yao said. He left without another word. Alfred reached for his communications screen and dialed Kiku. "Hey, Japan. Yao got the info on the drive. Come on over." Japan quickly responded, "I'll be right there."

Alfred plugged the drive into his computer and set the screen to tangible hologram mode. He stood up and pushed his chair into his desk to allow larger range of free motion. He began sorting through documents, half that he could look at, half that Kiku could go through, and some from both groups that would need decryption at a later time.

Japan arrived around eleven p.m. and immediately began sifting through the folders of documents that Alfred set aside for him. After glancing at some of the codes and dates on a few folders, Japan saw one folder that made him gasp. "Kiku?" Alfred asked. "Alfred- san, this is a digitized folder from 1953!"

Alfred cussed enthusiastically. "No way! Slide it over here-" with a flick of his wrist, Japan sent the hologrammed folder zooming through the air at Alfred, who caught it with a 'stop' motion of his hand. He opened the folder and expanded it. "Dude, no way!" He breathed.

"This is the official report of Operation Mincemeat!" Japan stared at him. "Why is the report dated so long after the fact?" He wondered. Alfred shrugged. "I think the real question is, 'why isn't this under lock and key at MI6?'"

Alfred and Kiku went back to skimming over the folders and documents. "Dude, do you see anything about the current project?" Alfred asked. Japan shook his head. "I don't see anything that's dated after 2037," he replied. Alfred looked up. "Pass that one over," he requested. "2037." Japan sent it over to him, and Alfred opened the folder. "Here we go!" He announced. Then his brow furrowed. "Wait... Hold on."

"Alfred- san? What is it?" Alfred looked at Japan with a confused expression. "This folder is about us," he said. He flipped through page after digitized page. "These are all complete psychological profiles on ALL the nations. Dude, Madagascar is in here! And they remembered Matthew!"

"Who?"

"Canada! My brother?"

"Oh, right. Well what do the profiles say?" Alfred skimmed the profile of his twin. "Name, age, who raised him, siblings... The result of the test!" He exhaled loudly. "He passed." Japan interrupted his moment if relief. "What are the statuses of the other nations?"

Alfred searched England's name. "Damn it, it's encrypted," he cursed. "And so are the other ones. They remember to include my brother, they just forget to encrypt his file. Typical..."Japan suppressed an amused smile. "Okay, moving on..."

Half an hour later, they hit the bottom. "Thousands of documents, folders, and folders hidden inside documents like an Easter Egg Hunt.  
And all we get is encrypted psych profiles?" He minimized the hologram and closed the drive with disgust. "It's fine, Alfred- san, maybe the schematics are in the other encrypted files," Japan tried to comfort Alfred. Alfred sighed and put the drive in his pocket.

"I'll get this over to Arthur in the morning, he's the one with all the cryptology stuff," Alfred muttered dejectedly. "It is morning," Japan noted. "Huh?" Japan pointed at the clock on Alfred's antique laptop. The time read four- twenty- two. "Damn. That's why I'm hungry. Wanna stay for breakfast?"Japan shrugged. "Sure, Alfred- san."

"Great, I'll have someone make you some tamagoyaki." Japan thanked him. He was impressed. Alfred had become less ignorant of other countries in recent years. Not much, but a little. While Japan ate his tamagoyaki and Alfred munched on his bacon and eggs, an idea came to Alfred. "Hey Kiku, do you think they have profiles like Matthew's about the scientists?"

"On that drive? Almost certainly," Kiku said with a trace of rare excitement. "Awesome! I'm going to send this to Arthur now. We gotta know what's on this thing!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm not sure if the promise of doing better next time is a sufficient way of resolving this kind of internal conflict."

"Neither am I."

"We have a bigger problem."

"Problem? Miller, what are you talking about?"

"Something's off about our files.."

"What do you mean? Are they gone?"

"No, they're here, and the decryption key is intact, but..."

"But what? For God's sake, don't get us all freaked out over nothing!"

"... It probably is nothing. Never mind."

"Fine. China's way of dealing with his fear was efficient, but the criteria of the testing shows-"

"The criteria of the testing is applicable to situations in which the subject or something dear to him is in danger. Japan was dead when China came across him."

"He didn't have to let Japan go on his own. He could have protected him, followed him."

"He swore to "do better next time"."

"Yes, I suppose he did."

"He stays."

* * *

**A/N: It's good to be back! Anyways, the sessions will continue for the duration of the story, but other things will be happening besides that. Please let me know how I'm doing! Love you guys!**

**Roxy**


	17. Chapter 17

Fear of a Nation  
Greece's Session

Greece watched as the scrolls and books burned around him. The fire raged and bathed his face in heat. Black smoke swirled around him. His nostrils burned harshly and his eyes stung. His history, his stories, his heroes, monsters, temples, everything he and his mother built over thousands and years was being reduced to soot and ash that now painted his face and exposed skin black.

One book that was on a higher shelf fell to the floor at his feet. Greece got a glimpse of an intricately painted illustration of Arachne and her tapestry before it smoldered and disappeared, turning into a glowing, papery ember.

It's difficult to burn books. At first, the pages may just turn black from the smoke, which will stain the pages and make the words indistinguishable. If you manage to set the whole volume aflame, nothing can save it. Scrolls are a different matter altogether. Drop a cigarette or a lit match and it goes up in smoke. History and myth have both been lost this way.

Greece shielded his eyes from the inferno and turned this way and that, looking for a way out of the burning library. There was a break in the flames a few feet to his left.

He jumped over a few piles of burning books, a smoldering shelf, and ducked under a tipped- over stack of shelves. He took a deep breath of air and dashed for the exit.

He made it out and ran down the hill that the library rested on. He turned to take a look at the library that held his history and his heritage. It wasn't just a library, he realized. It was the Pantheon. With a crash that reverberated in Greece's ribs, the magnificent white structure collapsed in on itself.

And with that crash, the stories of Hercules, Zeus, Athena, the Spartans and the Amazons, the dryads and the naiads, Cyclopes and hydras, were all lost under the smoldering pile of rubble. Jason, Pegasus, the Chimera, the manticore, Aphrodite, Hera- all becoming charred, smokey dust. The Oracle, the Colossus at Rhodes, even the Trojan Horse, were all gone, wiped from history and memory.

If he had not been so stunned, Greece would have sat down and cried. Instead he felt more tremors under his feet. Greece dug his heel into the ground and ran. At the base of the hill, he skidded to a stop. A tall, gracefully grown olive tree rested at the base of the hill.

The olive tree was on fire too, but instead of turning into black ash, the fire and the tree coexisted in the same space. He gazed at it in wonder. The flames weren't harsh and raging like in the Pantheon. These flames were warmth- giving, dancing, graceful. He couldn't help but stare.

He realized that heat was coming from behind him as well. He shifted to look.

A ring of white pillars held up a round dome of a roof. The structure was small and placed on a round slab of marble. Greece walked towards it with piqued curiosity. The slab of marble that served as a base was interesting; a channel was carved around the circumference, and it was filled with water. In the center was a burning lyre on top of a dry pedestal. This fire was something in between the wild inferno of the library and the gentle dance on the olive tree. The pace of the lyre's destruction was in- between as well.

He woke from the hallucination with a start.

"Fire."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, you can decrypt it, right?" America asked England hopefully. England studied the code on his screen, bushy eyes pulled together in concentration. "It may take some time," he admitted. "But it can be done." America cheered. "Great! Once this is decrypted, we're that much closer to figuring out what's going on!"

England smiled too, despite himself. America's enthusiasm was always contagious. The grin faded after a second. "America, when I decrypt these, we'll be able to read everything. You said Matthew's file told the results of his test?" America nodded. "What's that got to do with anything?" England pursed his lips. "Suppose not all of us passed. Maybe we should leave that part of the file a mystery."

America blinked. "England, are you sure? I mean..." England cut him off. "We'll find out eventually, won't we? After everyone's tested, they're going to gather us all together and tell us collectively who passed and failed." America thought about it. "It's not very nice to keep the results a secret from everyone."

"We won't know either. We won't tell anyone that it was even in their files. How about this: let's not even touch their files." When America opened his mouth to protest, England quickly added, "Everyone has skeletons, Alfred. We might learn something about them that they don't want us to know." America thought about it. "Okay. Not our files. Oh! That reminds me." He pulled a file from his pocket and tossed it to England, who caught it and opened it. "Operation Mincemeat?"

America shrugged. "It was on the drive. No clue why. I thought you'd like it back." England flipped through a few hologram pages. "Thank you," he murmured. America shrugged. "Come back tonight with, say, everyone who's already taken the test. They'll want to see this."

"Shouldn't we warn the other countries?" America asked. "I think it's better that everyone remain in the dark until absolutely necessary," England said. "Fine. I've gotta go, my president wanted to talk to me about a new bill." He hesitated. "The Secretary of Defense is supposed to be there." England looked up from the holograms. "Be careful," he warned. America snorted. "Uh, England? Hero, remember?" England rolled his eyes. "Go to your meeting, git. I've got work to do."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"His survival instincts are good, and he had comprehension of the severity of his situation. I don't understand why you keep insisting that he's insane, Miller."

"Did you really miss that whole conversation in the back of his mind about cats?"

"Conversation? Was he hearing voices?"

"No, he was talking to himself about how he could be licking his balls right then if he was a cat. Stop blushing, Yakazowi, we both know you've heard worse language than that."

"Miller, come on. He's just a bit eccentric."

"His country is the birthplace of Homer, Plato, and Aristotle. The wisest thing he did during his whole session was to look for the exit. I'm sorry, but I was expecting something a bit more... Profound?"

"What, did you want a commentary on the secrets of life and happiness?"

"I was kinda hoping, yeah."

"You're hopeless."

"What?!"

"Let's just take this to the boss, I really doubt we're going to come to a conclusion anytime soon on this particular subject."

"Fine. By the way, is it just me, or are a lot of the nations afraid of something burning?"

"It's not too surprising. Fire has represented death and purification for thousands of years."

"Hm."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

England nearly knocked over his stapler in his mad lunge for the phone. "America!" He gasped when Alfred picked up. "Some of the profiles have finished decryption. I know it isn't much, but i want to give them some peace of mind by knowing something. Come over and invite the others, too."

"Gotcha, Iggy!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

England's driveway filled up with cars from all over the globe. England moved the digitized folders to his basement, where there would be more room to move and more room for people.

France, Russia, China, Israel, America, Wales, Japan, Prussia, Spain, Germany, the Italy brothers, and Canada (admittedly invited at the last moment by France), all made it to England's house. England enlarged the first few files. "Let's start with the scientists," he suggested.

He opened up the first folder and enlarged it further so all in the room could read it. It looked a bit like this:

**Name**: Daniel Jeremy Miller

**Age**: 34

**Sex**: Male

**Nationality**: Twelfth- Generation American

**Parents**: Andrew and Rachael Miller

**Siblings**: Josephine Miller, aged 26

**Family Background**: Andrew Miller was a percussionist in the United States Military Band. Rachael Miller was a retired corporal in the United States Army before her death in 2084 due to a fire in the barracks of a military training camp. The sprinkler system failed, and she asphyxiated while giving the new recruits a chance to escape. Josephine Miller is a pilot for the United States Air Force.

**Marital Status**: Formerly married to Leyla Miller, who has full- time custody of his son and daughter, Cyrus and Tzipporah (Zippy) Miller.

**Education**: Master's Degree in bio- engineering, mechanics, electrical engineering. Procured at Massachusetts Institute of Technology

**Occupation**: No current occupation

**Work History**: Miller worked at John's Hopkins Hospital post- graduation. He was selected to a part of a project that involved replacing dead nerves with mechanical ones that could receive and send signals to the brain. An incident occurred as a result of overlooked exposed wires. The subject, a volunteer, died as a result of this incident from an electrical surge to his brain. Miller was promptly fired and his license to practice bio- engineering was revoked in 2092. He has not been employed since.

* * *

"Wow," America said. He sounded impressed. "He has children?" Israel said wonderingly. "Is that unusual?" England asked. Israel shrugged. "I didn't see any photos of family members on his workspace while it was my turn. Did any of you?" They all shook their heads. "I didn't see any personal items that belonged to any of them," Russia said.

"The next one is the blonde female's."

* * *

**Name**: Dusana Vondra Milan

**Age**: 35

**Sex**: Female

**Nationality**: Czech

**Parents**: Ruza and Komar Milan

**Siblings**: None

**Family Background**: Komar Milan is the vice- chairman of a pharmaceutical company based in Liechtenstein. Ruza Milan is a former public speaker who advocates for women's rights to education and protection by the law in the Middle- East region. She and her mentor Malala brought changes to the region that include freedom to be educated in Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Afghanistan.

**Marital Status**: Unmarried.

**Education**: Master's Degree in human psychology, criminal psychology, psychotherapy, and diagnostic medicine. Procured at Oxford University.

**Occupation**: No current occupation.

**Work History**: Milan was employed part- time by the Scotland Yard in post- graduate years before resigning. She returned to the Czech Republic after her resignation to pursue a job as a psychotherapist to victims of crime, especially traumatic sexual crimes such as rape and molestation. She was revoked her license to practice when found in inappropriate contact with a patient; though her employers believed the patient instigated this incident, they believed it best for all if she was let go. Her license was revoked when the patient filed charges against her for sexual harassment. She has been unemployed since 2090.

* * *

"Is anyone else seeing a pattern?" Alfred asked. Japan nodded in agreement. "Mysterious circumstances that lead to unemployment?" England stopped them. "Wait until you see this one," he urged.

* * *

**Name**: Kenjiro Hideo Yakazowi

**Age**: 42

**Sex: Male**

**Nationality**: Japanese

**Parents**: Raidyn and Miyoko Yakazowi

**Siblings**: Ichiro Yakazowi, aged 45, and Manzo Yakazowi, aged 39.

**Family Background**: Raidyn Yakazowi is the CEO of a multi- national, diverse technology manufacturing company. He inherited the company from his father, and he plans on leaving it to Ichiro Yakazowi upon his death or retirement. Miyoko Yakazowi is a former model who made her start in Japan and quickly became popular in the United States, the UK, and other countries around the world.

**Marital Status**: Married to Michee Yakazowi, who is pregnant with the couple's first child.

**Education**: Master's Degrees in Neuro- science, neurology, and pediatric medicine. Procured at Kyoto University.

**Occupation**: No current occupation

**Work History**: Kenjiro was employed at a prestigious research hospital in Japan. He unexpectedly left, resigning in 2091 due to "family matters".

* * *

"These are all remarkable people from respected families with no current job. What are they doing here?" France asked. England raised a finger, excited. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. " Is there anything about what happened to Romano?" Antonio asked urgently. England shook his head. "But there is mention of a captain, who seems to be a special favorite of the boss's."

At this, Alfred perked up. "A captain?" He asked. England nodded. "Why? Do you have any idea who it is?" Alfred nodded. "There was a captain in the Marine Corps about six years ago, Kyle Mathison, who was dishonorably discharged because he... Well, he did some bad things." Russia spoke up. "Why do you remember that particular captain?"  
"He was the first in twenty years to be dishonorably discharged after my government added the new branch of the military," Alfred clarified.

England coughed. "That's all I have so far. More should be available for us to read in about twelve hours. Thanks for coming, all."

When Alfred slipped into his bomber jacket to leave, Arthur grabbed his sleeve to keep him back. "Alfred, there was something about Romano's disappearance." Alfred's brow creased. "What? Dude, why didn't you say anything?"

England closed his eyes and swallowed. "It's... Disturbing. I want you to see it. Not because it's disturbing! Because I don't want to be the only one to know." England rambled. Alfred just shook his head. "Show me," he said. England swallowed again and pulled Alfred back to the basement.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the continued support!**


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: This time I'm saving the session for the very end, so if that's all you're interested in, scroll down.

Fear of a Nation  
Norway's Session

England pulled America down to the basement and pushed him to sit down on the couch. "Jeez, Iggy, is it really that bad?" America complained. England ignored the use of the hated nickname and brought up the video he was looking for. He gave the command for the video to play.

The video opened with an empty, concrete room. The sound of creaking metal interrupted the silence, and a figure with a bag over it's head and hands cuffed behind its back shuffled in. A man followed the figure and roughly shoved him forward. The first figure tripped over it's own feet and went sprawling. The first man growled something in Italian and pulled up the other by the hair.

The bag came off as the first figure was dragged upwards. The camera barely caught Romano's dazed, angry features. Romano growled something in Italian, and the stranger angrily punched him. Romano's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Romano spat bloody spit at his attacker.

The stranger seemed to totally lose it when Romano's saliva met his face. He viscously kicked Romano square in the chest, knocking him backwards. He edged closer and skillfully kicked him again. While he kicked, Alfred said to the video, "Pause." The video obeyed him, and Alfred commanded, "Zoom."

The focus zoomed on the face of Romano's assailant. "That's him. Kyle Mathison." England looked at Alfred. "That's the captain?" Alfred nodded. "I'm positive. I'd recognize that nose anywhere. Resume video."

The captain kept landing blows on the helpless Italian until his back came into contact with the concrete wall and he had nowhere else to go. Finally the captain stopped his attacks. He turned his back on the still- cuffed Romano and left the room. "Fast forward," England commanded. Romano was by himself in that room by himself for sixteen hours without food, according to the time stamps.

England remembered something about the scientist's files. "Alfred, what does Miller's file mean when they say he's a twelfth- generation American?" He asked as the video zipped to where he wanted to go.

"Huh?" Alfred turned a bit pink. "You know what I mean, git, I can tell by your blush." Alfred huffed. "Well... Okay remember how like in the beginning of the century when my government legalized gay marriage?" Curious, England nodded. "When gay marriage got legalized, the general populace decided that discrimination like that, you know, like sexism, racism, homophobia? Anyway, most people decided that these were primitive concepts, so they discarded them." England waited. "Sorry, Alfred, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"When the other discriminations fell out of common... Practice, I guess, I don't know how else to say it, people looked for ways to set themselves apart. So they came up with this thing that was popular way back in the 1850's, when the first wave of immigrants came over to America. Basically it was like a social status thing. It's all about how long your family's lived in America. Miller's family has lived in the US for twelve generations, which is a long time, I guess." England nodded, finally understanding. "Here we are," he said, noticing the video. The two blondes turned their attention back to the hologram.

Two people wheeled in a cart with mystery objects on it while Romano slept, propped up against the wall. One of them picked up a mystery object, and Alfred could guess by the position of the person's hand that it was a syringe, which he stuck into another mystery object- a vial?- and filled it. The two new arrivals crept silently to Romano. He didn't stir. The guy without the syringe dove down at Romano and pinned down the Italian's shoulders with powerful- looking hands. Romano jerked awake and squirmed in a useless effort to escape.

The man with the syringe forcefully pushed Romano's head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. He promptly stuck the needle into Romano's flesh and allowed the liquid to trickle into his bloodstream. Instead of ceasing his movements, like Alfred guessed he would do, Romano's body began to convulse. Random limbs jerked and snapped in random directions while his eyes rolled back into his head. Alfred swallowed, slightly sickened. Arthur fast- forwarded the video, and to Alfred's horror, he ended up skipped about ten minutes of convulsions.

Food was given to Romano twenty- eight hours after his arrival.

The next time Romano was visited, it was for apparently no reason except to beat him with fists, metal rods, and occasionally poking him with cattle prods and tasers. "What are they doing?" Alfred hissed. "I've been thinking about it, and I think it's to test his endurance," Arthur said. "Apparently, his testing had unexpected results. So they want to test his physical abilities as well."

Romano got another meal about sixteen hours after the first one. The beating took about two and a half hours. Alfred got a knot in his stomach. "Arthur, they aren't gonna..." He trailed off. England realized what he meant. "No, they aren't." Alfred exhaled. "Phew."

Romano didn't receive another bite to eat or even anything to drink for the rest of his stay. The video was seventy- four hours long and ended when Romano was injected with something and dragged out of the room.

Arthur and Alfred sat in the darkness when the video ended. Normally, Alfred would have been nervous about ghosts or something, but he wasn't, strangely. Hearing Arthur breathing next to him was enough to soothe his nerves. "He doesn't remember any of that?" He questioned Arthur. "None."

"Maybe it's better that way." Alfred said quietly. "Maybe. Should we at least tell him?" Arthur asked. In the darkness, Alfred could hear how low Arthur's voice could get when they discussed serious matters. "It's his life, Arthur. It happened to him. He has a right to know."

"If that's the case... Should I decrypt our files then?"  
"No! I mean... I don't know, Arthur. I don't know about any of this." Alfred could almost see Arthur's sympathetic look when he answered, "It's okay, Alfred. You don't have to feel like you're supposed to save us, like you have to know everything." He quickly changed topics.

After a heartbeat of silence, England thought he could hear tears in Alfred's tone. "You guys are my family. How can I not protect you? Even North Korea and the Middle East countries- I know some of them hate me, but I want them to be safe. Is that weird?"

England hesitated before answering. "A little, Alfred. We aren't humans, we can't 'all just get along'. We always thrive while someone else suffers. As horrid as it sounds, it's true. We can't function while we're all successful. Maybe someday, we'll find a way to coexist like that. But for now, it's simply not possible."

"You sound like you've thought about it before," Alfred said thickly.  
"I have... Alfred, are you crying?" He asked tentatively. "Dude what?! No way! Heroes don't cry! Jeez Iggy where'd you get an idea like that? Are you tired? I'm tired. Crying? Me? No way, dude. I'm a hero, and heroes don't cry, not ever! Do you have decent food? I'm starving. Hey Iggy-"

"Alfred. Shut up."

"That's not nice, Iggy. Can I crash here tonight? I don't wanna drive back by myself, scary shit happens when you drive at night-" England pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alfred! Fine, you can stay here! If I knew you'd get so worked up over one little question, I wouldn't have asked! Gracious, Alfred... And stop calling me Iggy!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Norway. I'm glad you could make it. Now if you would please put your barrette on the table and sit down, we'll get started right away." Seeing his startled look, she smiled humorlessly. "We know its a communication device. That won't be compatible with the machine."

Norway's heart was thumping wildly in his chest as he allowed the drugs to worm their way into the pores of his skin. The scientist's attitudes weren't helping; they all had an aura of forced cheeriness about them. "Mr. Norway, please try to relax, it'll be over before you know it!" The Czech smiled brightly at him.

Norway swallowed, and his unconsciousness sank into it's own personal hell.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, England had finished decrypting more of the drive. This time, only America, France, Spain, the Germans and Japan could make it. The rest were taking care of long- neglected duties.

"There are project notes in a folder here-" England grabbed it- "But they aren't by any of those three."

He began to read one entry out loud. "May 13, 2094. Our first subject, the nation of Russia, showed much promise during his session. If all do as well as him, our future may be assured." A small wave of tension rolled off Alfred's shoulders. "Future?" Alfred asked. "Wait, it gets better," England told him. He flipped through a few pages. "May 24, 2094. The country of Wales tested today. He was suspicious of our project before he ever began the test. Surely he is fit to belong to my Master Race of countries."

A shock wave rippled throughout the gathered nations. "Mon Dieu," France whispered. "Master Race?" Everyone tried very hard not to look at the German brothers.  
"Is there anything about what happened to Romano?" Antonio spoke over the bickering Germans. England shook his head. "The writer of these journal entries is almost definitely the boss, but they never mention his or her name, sadly."

"As interesting as that is, we still don't know how this works. Are they an organization?" Germany asked. England held up another hologram. "Yes. The boss is at the top, obviously, and if I had to guess, I'd say that this Captain chap is second in command, or at least a high- ranking member of the organization. Right under him on this pyramid would be the three scientists, and under them are the foot soldiers.

"This organization has it's own private army full of soldiers who were dishonorably discharged, among other things, from all around the globe. One member of the army I found interesting was a woman named Kaiya Fujiko. She used to be a member of the Yakuza in Japan before she disappeared."

"I remember her,"Japan said. "She was the first woman to participate in the Yakuza's activities. She was rumored to have been killed by a member of the Russian Mafia after killing his sister. I guess that rumor was false." He shrugged. "She's a gifted woman; intelligent, strong, fiercely independent. She could have become more than a gang member."

"I called Turkey last night. Egypt hasn't returned from the office building." Spain suddenly announced. "We can only assume he's been taken too." Discomfort rolled through the group of nations like a tidal wave.

"When do we put our foot down?" Antonio asked them. "When they take someone YOU care about?" This seemed to be directed at England specifically. "Mon ami, perhaps you should take a-"

"DO NOT TELL ME TO TAKE A BREAK!" Spain suddenly turned to his friend and screamed this last sentence into his face. France fell back half a step, but Spain grabbed a fistful of France's blue cloak and shook him. "My Romano has not been the same since he's been back! I want to know what they did to him! Now!" He noticed Arthur and Alfred's exchanged glance. He released France and shoved Alfred, which didn't result in anything beyond getting his attention.

"Do you know something? Hmm?" Alfred shook his head. "Oh, I see, the big, strong United States of America doesn't know. Some hero you are, you worthless-"

"Enough, Spain!" Prussia snapped. He grabbed Spain's shoulder and dragged him upstairs. Alfred mouthed the word "worthless", which no one saw. The group of nations heard angry, hushed whispering before they flinched at the loud slam of the front door. An engine revved away. Prussia came back down the stairs.

"I have never seen him so angry." Prussia stated. France nodded in agreement. "Not since... Not even when he was the great conquistador."

"I think this meeting's adjourned," England said. The other nations awkwardly left, including Alfred.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Norway was laying down in a ring of magical toadstools. He picked himself up off the luscious grass.

He was in a forest of tall green trees. He could see the velvet blue of the night sky above him, interrupted by diamond stars.

Before him was a stone sacrificial altar. An athame, or a ritual knife, was impaled into the stone, handle up, like a miniaturized version of the sword in the stone. From the hilt, down the blade, dribbled blood. The dark liquid spilled upon the flat slab of stone.

Norway gingerly picked his way over to the altar, making sure not to step on the toadstools. He approached the altar. A flicker of... something appeared on the altar before it disappeared.

Russia's prone form appeared on the altar. The athame was buried in his chest, and around it, red liquid life stained Russia's coat. His purple eyes were dark and lifeless. Norway drew back with a sharp, surprised inhale.

Russia's form was replaced with Denmark. Denmark was replaced with Sweden. Sweden flickered into Iceland. Iceland became Finland. The five nations replaced each other faster and faster like some kind of bizarre super- fast slide show. The only consistency was the knife in their breasts. Even that consistency was fading, as the quantity of the blood only grew and grew. Soon, the whole altar was painted a sticky red.

Norway didn't know any spells for this sort of situation. The only thing relevant to these circumstances were prayers for the dead.

"God grant me the serenity  
to accept the things I cannot change;  
courage to change the things I can;  
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;  
Enjoying one moment at a time;  
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;  
Taking, as He did, this sinful world  
as it is, not as I would have it;  
Trusting that He will make all things right  
if I surrender to His Will;  
That I may be reasonably happy in this life  
and supremely happy with Him  
Forever in the next.  
Amen."

He recited this prayer in Norwegian for his deceased friends.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

He jack- knifed straight up and used that momentum to fling himself from the chair, grab his barrette, and bolted from the sterile room.

* * *

**A/N: Yay I fixed the chapter! Ugh that's what I get for uploading it at two a.m. Thanks for the support and for putting up with me! :)**

**Roxy**

**P.S.: Who's next, Hungary or Scotland?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I feel like I'm giving away too much, too fast. So this chapter will just be a session with a side of suspense.**  
**Try saying that three times fast.**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
Hungary's Session

Hungary grumbled in her half- awake state and flung a pillow over her eyes. She was soo not ready for this stupid test. She understood why humans had to attend seminars and all that, but she was a nation! Why should she have to go? She suddenly remembered why she set her alarm so early.

She sat up, ignoring the protest of sleep- crusted eyes and creaking limbs, and pulled on her usual green dress. She yanked on her boots and grabbed a light jacket, not stopping to put it on. She passed the kitchen with plans to stop to eat on the way- and something at her kitchen table caught her eye.

She backtracked two steps. Eyes the color of blood stared nonchalantly back at her as their owner raised a coffee mug to his lips. "Prussia. What the hell are you doing in my house?" Prussia swallowed the life- giving liquid that is coffee and replied, "Drinking your coffee, of course." She rolled her eyes. "I can see that. Why are you in my house?"

"Why are you up so early?" He countered arrogantly. "Trying to avoid you!" She snapped, finally losing her patience. Prussia smirked. "We both know that it's not just me you are trying to avoid, Hungary. Sadly, I did not come here just to annoy you," Prussia continued. "I don't care, Gilbert. I'm leaving."

Prussia had apparently gotten up and followed her, because next thing she next, his strong hand encircled her small wrist. She wrenched her arm away, and he let her slide out of his grip. "Elizaveta." She stopped at the mention of her human name. "That machine thing..."

He looked at her with soft, concerned eyes that were impossible to look away from. The expression changed subtly to that of a kicked puppy. Maybe he was going to offer her advice? Was he going to apologize for heckling her for the past few centuries? He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. She watched him waver between speech and silence for a few moments.

"Just... Don't let what you see.. If you see anyone while you're on that machine, don't let it ruin your view of anyone." Hungary stared at Prussia. "Well that was pretty deep, for you," she teased. Prussia shrugged. "My awesomeness is clearly too much for you to handle. I'll be going now!" And he sauntered out her front door.

"And I'm picking you up whether you like it or not!" He called back to her. She bit her lip and groaned. She noticed that he didn't smile while he said this.

"Whatever." She let herself into her sleek black car and turned on the ignition.

"Guten Tag."

Hungary whipped out her antique, but still very functional, revolver and pressed it to her unexpected companion's cheek at the speed of sound. Austria gave her an amused look and batted away the tip of the gun. "Careful with that, Elizaveta, you could hurt someone."

Hungary had officially reached her limit. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CAR!" She screeched. "Aw, but Elizaveta-"  
"No! Get out! Gilbert was in my house and he made coffee, go help yourself! Just go away!" Austria gave her a look that could be sympathetic, if you squinted, and climbed out out her vehicle.

Hungary tucked the weapon under her seat and stomped on the gas pedal. "Weird. What the hell is his problem? Both of them, my God. I need a vacation. Can't that brother of his control him?" She continued to mutter the whole way to her appointment.

But it was only six- thirty. Her appointment wasn't for hours! What was she going to do until it was time? "Breakfast first," she decided.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gilbert was not amused. Scenarios played through his mind like a movie he couldn't pause. Would they take her like they took Romano and Egypt? God, it would be his fault if they did. He drummed his long, pale fingers on the steering wheel.

"Maybe I should have put drugs in the coffee, offered it to her, and kidnap her myself," he mused. "She wouldn't get too angry, would she? No, she wouldn't. The Awesome Prussia saved her from the Frankensteins!"

To this day, I'm not sure if he was kidding or not.

Prussia finally made a decision. It was time to stalk Hungary, for her own safety. Whether she liked it or not.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hungary opened her eyes under the influence of the potent drugs. A soft chair supported her back. light from a PC gave her light in an otherwise pitch- black room. She felt strange, like her lungs and ribs were being squeezed. Every expansion of her lungs nearly made her sob with relief. Her face felt oddly tight, so she reached up to touch it. Her fingertips came away wet.

Why was Hungary crying?

She noticed the word "sorry" on the computer screen, so she looked closer. It was a email, from Prussia.

_Elizaveta,_

_I can't do it anymore. I'm not going to explain myself to you, or West, or anyone. I'm tired of burdening you with my crap._

_I hope I've finally made you happy._

_Ich liebe dich und auf wiedersehen,_

_Gilbert_

She stared at the message. A flash of cold rushed over her scalp. She sprang up to grab her coat, noticing her boots were already on. The only thought in her mind was to get to Prussia.

_Ding!_

She whipped back to the screen. It let her know that she had another new message. Praying that it was Gilbert, telling her it was some kind of sick joke, she opened it. It was Austria.

_Elizaveta,_

_I can't be the laughingstock of the planet anymore. I'll never be as strong as Germany or as likable as little Feli. I can't even have you. It doesn't matter; I don't deserve you. My piano was all I had to keep me sane, and now that's not enough._

_Ich liebe dich._

_Auf Wiedersehen_

_Roderich_

Elizaveta screamed. "_Nem! Nem_!" She bolted out the door. It was raining ("How fitting," she thought), and impatiently she threw herself into her car. She slammed her foot onto the accelerator as soon as the key in the ignition turned. The world around her narrowed to the road that was barely visible through the rain and her wildly beating heart.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize the she was about to crash into a wooden column street sign until the last second. She harshly stomped on the brake. The slick road carried her a few more inches. The road, she realized, a was 'T' shape. She could only go left or right. She put her car in reverse and back up a bit to see the signs.

The sign gesturing to the right said, "Prussia." The sign pointing to the left read, "Austria". Her mouth dropped open. "No way," she whispered hysterically.

Her eyes dashed from one sign to the other and her whole body trembled. "Choose," a voice seemed to taunt her. "Choose."  
"_Choose_."  
"**_Choose_**."  
"_**CHOOSE**_!"

Hungary screamed and floored the accelerator. The car jerked at flew at the thick wood column. At the last moment it disappeared and she effortlessly flew through it and out of her hallucination.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I told you I would pick you up."

Hungary stared at the devilishly grinning albino. He looked cockily down at her with a smirk. He thought he looked so cool, leaning against his brother's jeep with arms folded across his chest. "I see you're finally noticing my awesomeness- Omph!"

Hungary flung her arms around him and knocked him off balance a step. She buried her face in his t- shirt and squeezed him. She couldn't get the self- conjured images of a dead Gilbert out of her mind. "Are you going to cry?" He asked awkwardly. "I'm not going to stoop that low," came her muffled reply. Prussia smirked.

Hungary released him and took a step away from him. She glared at him with green fire burning in her eyes. It actually made Prussia a bit nervous. "You tell anyone I did that, I will smack you into the next century with my frying pan. Got it?"

"Understood. Can we go home now?" Hungary gave him a strange look. "We?" Prussia nodded. "Didn't I mention? You are staying at my house for a few days!"

"Absolutely not." Prussia faltered, but quickly regained composure. "Then I will stay with you!"He grinned. "Gilbert-" Prussia internally groaned, he hated it when she used his human name. "Why are you suddenly so hell- bent on staying with me?" Prussia opened his mouth to tell a brilliant lie that Hungary might actually buy into, but found it unnecessary.

Spilling out of the office building was a squad of five heavily armored men with large guns. Hungary, with her back to the entrance, only saw Prussia's eyes pop open before he grabbed her hand and ran, pulling her behind the jeep. The men opened fire.

Bullets tore apart the poor jeep, holes as wide as a thumb ripped through the metal. Prussia put himself in between the jeep and Hungary's body. He pointed at another car, a sturdier- looking gray one, and gave her a small push. She got the message and kicked off the ground to propel herself towards the vehicle.

Prussia propped his pistol on a relatively undamaged piece of metal and returned fire to give Hungary some cover- which was stupid, because their bulletproof armor would protect them from anything short of a fifty- caliber weapon, and Prussia was only carrying a thirty- caliber.

Pardon him for not bringing an assault weapon to pick up a woman.

Hungary got the engine running. As soon as Gilbert heard the car come to life, he bolted to the shotgun side and more or less fell in. "What did you do?" She yelled at him. "Nothing, this time, I swear!" Hungary made a violent turn, and Prussia had to throw up his arm to keep his temple from smacking into the window.

"Well then maybe you will like to explain WHY THE HELL THEY ARE SHOOTING AT US?!"

"If you had agreed to come with me when I told you, this may not even be an issue!"

"Shut up, I'm trying to drive!"

"Then drive!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Miller, we have a problem."

"What?"

"Here, look out the window..."

"Oh for the love of..."

"Call the captain."

"Already on it. Cocky son of a bitch, wait until the boss hears about this..."

* * *

**A/N: I would first like to let you know that there is a reason for Austria's weirdness. Am I going to tell you? LOL not yet. **

**Thanks for your continued support, and shoutout to zoewinter1. I immensely enjoy reading your comments. **

**See you soon! **

**Roxy**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Welcome to the twentieth chapter! I thought it fair to remind you that I still do not own Hetalia or it's characters. Anyways, on to the story! I've been looking forward to doing Scotland's chapter for awhile now. Oh! And I'm using the name Connor to refer to Northern Ireland and Sean to refer to Ireland.**

* * *

Fear of a Nation  
Scotland's Session

"Allistor, perhaps I should go with you, you know, for moral support?" Arthur chuckled weakly. Allistor just gave him an amused look over his glass of beer. "Do you think I'll need it, lad?" He asked lightly. Arthur, noticing the trap his brother had just set, quickly changed tactics. "Honestly, probably not, but Alfred showed me a pub in town that only sells the best alcohol- all imported from the UK, of course, none of the crap they make here!"

Allistor paused. "That actually sounds like a fine idea. When we get there, you can tell me what's got your knickers in a tight knot." At Arthur's frozen expression, Scotland allowed a half- smile to creep onto his lips. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Arthur finally said. "Sure ya don't, kid. You just don't talk to your older brother for fifteen years, and invite him for drinks out of the feckin' blue when these... 'Scientists' show up. Is that the right of it, Art?" He asked. He knew that his eyes, green as his younger brother's were scorching him. If he made Arthur squirm now, he might get the truth out of him faster.

But Arthur kept his ridiculously fake smile on his face. "Absolutely," he lied. "Bollocks." Scotland snapped, quickly out of patience. England's fake smile finally slipped away. "Fine, fine... I realized that I haven't seen you in so long, and... Well I just thought it would be nice for us to have a drink, and catch up." He turned a bit pink. "If you'd rather not, I understand, I was just hoping... Oh forget it, I don't know what I was thinking." Scotland quickly set down the beer and grabbed Arthur's sleeve.

"Kid, I'll have that drink with you. I was just wondering why." Arthur looked back at his brother with slightly parted lips. "Really?" He asked. Scotland almost groaned- he couldn't resist Arthur when he sounded so hopeful. "Yeah." England barked a humorless laugh. "And you're not worried I'll slip something into your drink like I tried to do last time?" At this, Scotland snorted. "I'm not worried about that at all, lad. You're a damn terrible liar. All I'd have to do was ask if ya did anything." Scotland got up to refill his empty glass.

Arthur's happy expression dropped completely. "I'm getting better at it, though," he thought.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hungary kept her eyes right on the road in front of her, not trusting herself to even glance at Prussia. She had no idea where they were going, but it was away from the firing squad. "Take this left," Prussia told her. She obeyed mindlessly. Prussia seemed to know where he was going. "Park right behind that van," he instructed.

When the car was out of sight to the common viewer, Prussia and Hungary got out, and she followed him to a stone structure that looked a bit like a much smaller version of the Pantheon. "We're going in from the side," he told her. "Keep your voice down."

She glared at him and tried not to make too much noise on the polished stone floor. When she looked around, she nearly gasped.

On the wall at her left was a rectangle of stone on the wall, decorated with wreaths and bronze eagles. English words were engraved on it, and she could only make out a few of them. On her right was a row of pillars, partially blocking her view of a gigantic man of white stone, sitting in a chair of the same stone. She gaped openly.

"The Lincoln Memorial, Prussia?" He shrugged. "They won't think to look for us here. Now hold on, I need to call West." He pulled out his cell phone, totally forgetting he was in a memorial, and wandered to the other side of the pillars- and was met with the extremely disapproving stares of a tourist family. "Ah," he stammered. Wow. He never thought that he would be the idiot tourist. "Sir, this is a memorial! Some respect, please!" The mother hissed at him. Her little girl looked at Prussia with huge, scared eyes. "Um, sorry," he said.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and noticed that the woman's expression softened. "Not from around here?" She asked sympathetically. He cautiously shook his head. "Oh, do you know your way around?" She asked. "Well enough," he said. "Thank you."

He glanced back at the little girl. How old was she, nine? "It's okay, I'm not a vampire," he said jokingly. The little girl giggled. "Gilbert," Hungary called softly. "Ah, excuse me," he said. He went back to her. She lifted a brow at him. "Are you calling your brother or making small talk?" She asked. "Right!"

He crept out the side of the memorial to a bush, where he could make a call and not be seen easily. "Bruder?" Ludwig said when he picked up. "West! Thank Gott. Uh, Hungary and I ran into some trouble after her appointment- thingy."  
"What kind of trouble?"  
"I'll replace your Jeep." Prussia promised. He held the phone away from his ear, and sure enough, Ludwig was pissed and not afraid to let his brother know it. "Where are you?" He asked, sounding exasperated. "The Lincoln Memorial," Prussia said sheepishly. "Feliciano and I will be over in ten. And Gilbert-" he added warningly. "YOU are going to make Hungary aware of the situation."

"Fine. I suggest you hurry, though. If you remember, this girl has anger issues." He quickly hung up, hoping that said girl didn't catch the last bit. "Good news! My little bruder is coming to pick us up!" Hungary sighed in relief. "Then what is the bad news?" She asked. "Oh, well, let me explain. No, never mind, it'll take too long. Let me sum up," Prussia told an abbreviated version of the past month.

Hungary's fingers were clenching at an imaginary frying pan by the time Prussia was done. "So, they want to create super- countries?" Prussia shrugged. "I don't know, it sounded to me like they were weeding out all the weak countries." An idea came to him. "What was your hallucination about?" He asked. Hungary flushed. "What was yours about?" She demanded. "Death," Prussia immediately answered. "And yours?"

"Death," Hungary admitted. Prussia beamed. "See, it's not so bad! All of us are afraid of death. Did someone kill you, or was it an accident, or what?" Hungary's chest tightened. "I wasn't the one who died," she said coldly.

"Oh."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

England decided to wait in the lobby while Allistor took his test. He gave him a half- hearted wave as the elevator doors closed, obstructing his view of his brother.

The effects of the alcohol were beginning to fade away. Scotland, undeterred by a matter as trivial as beer, quickly found the rather distasteful room. He was greeted by an Asian man who seemed to be in no mood to pretend that he was anything other than tense and pissed off. "Take a seat, and don't fight it when you feel sleepy," he snapped. "No need for the attitude, friend. I haven't even started cursing yet," Scotland grumbled.

The chair felt warm, sort of like an engine that had recently been running. The warmth assisted the anesthetic and the traces of alcohol left in his system as he allowed his lids to shut over his eyes.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Do you have any idea how badly you've fucked up, Captain?"

"Yes sir."

"Really? You do? Pray tell, Captain Mathison, what prompted you to order your men to fire upon the nations of Prussia and Hungary?"

"It was not my order, sir."

"Not your order. Who's order was it, then? If not yours?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Perhaps your men have gone rogue, then. Because they only follow your orders, and my orders through you. Shall we kill them, Captain? Will that solve our problem?"

"No, sir."

"What will solve the problem, then? Obviously you cannot control your own soldiers."

"Sir, I recommend a memory wipe and replacement."

"For whom, Captain? The soldiers or the countries?"

"All of them, sir."

"..."

"... You impress me, Captain. There will always be a place for you in my great new world."

"Thank you, sir. You don't know how much that means to me."

"First, you will have to find our friends to correct your error. Order Dusana to summon them for further testing; if that fails, you will have to come up with a strategy that makes as little noise as possible."

"It will be done, sir. I swear."

"Have you released our Egyptian friend yet, Captain?"

"No sir, I was waiting for your orders before doing so."

"Release him."

"Right away, sir."

"You are dismissed, Captain."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Scotland's head was absolutely pounding when the hallucination began. His face was pressed into what felt like hardwood floor. He opened his eyes a fraction of an inch and saw the familiar sight of broken beer glasses and spilled, wasted liquor. He could tell already that this was the beginning of an incredible hangover.

He groaned and slowly pulled himself upright. He didn't quite trust himself to stand, so he supported himself on one arm and breathed slowly and evenly through the hammering in his skull. He felt like his brothers should be near. "Arthur? Dylan? Connor? Sean?" He noticed that the pub he was in was quite nice, dark, polished wood furniture, a well- stocked bar, and strategically placed lamps that gave the pub enough light to see, but not enough to seriously irritate a hung- over Scotsman.

Irritation grew, just not from the light. He growled and pushed himself to his feet. Blood rushed to his brain and dark spots blotted out parts of his vision. He quickly gripped the back of a chair to keep himself steady. He sighed and pressed his free hand to his temple to soothe the damn throbbing. "Dylan?" he called again.

There was no answer. Scotland noticed right next to his hand an unopened bottle of beer. He woozily snatched it and ran his sleeve over it, opening it. He brought it to his lips and gulped it down.

The burn of the drink brought some clarity back to his mind. He looked back and forth for his brothers, only to discover with a sinking feeling that the destruction was not limited to the broken glasses. Paintings that had been hung up on the wall were ruined, it looked like someone had taken a blade and ripped through the canvas. Tables and chairs had been knocked over. The leg of one upturned chair was only attached to the rest of it by a few splinters. Some of the drapes for the windows had been shredded to useless ribbons. A keg of ale was leaking a small river of the alcohol.

"What the hell..." He looked all around, a complete 360 degree rotation- but was forced to come to the conclusion that this establishment had no front or back door. He spotted a small staircase in a corner behind the bar. He jumped over the wood bar- a useful skill, trust me- and quickly scaled the stairs. He wasn't sure what he thought he'd find, but it was better than remaining in the trashed drinking area.

At the top of the stairs was a long hall, with doors that presumably led to bedrooms on both sides of the aisle. Scotland spotted one door that was slightly ajar and crept towards it. As he drew closer, he heard strange, small choking noises. He lifted his hand to further push open the door when he realized that the noise was the sound of familiar sobs. He froze with fingertips barely grazing the wood of the door.

"Hic... He said he'd... Never do it again.." The voice was overcome with wrenching sobs. "He keeps saying that," the same voice choked out bitterly. "Allistor, why do you hate me so?" At this, Scotland flinched. "I don't hate you, Arthur," he whispered. He pushed open the door and was assaulted with the sight of his little brother. Arthur's eyes were a duller green than normal and bloodshot from tears. His beautiful blonde hair was streaked with blood from a head wound that Scotland realized that he must have inflicted.

Arthur abruptly stilled and stifled his cries. He looked up at his older sibling warily. "Ah, lad, I'm sorry... I can't make it up to ya, not ever, you know." Scotland tried to apologize. "Arthur, please... I don't hate ya." Arthur's eyes flashed angrily. "I do. I hate you, Scotland. You always pick on me and make me feel weak and worthless..." Arthur seemed to be struggling with something. "Go away, Scotland."

Scotland blinked. "What was that?" Arthur began yelling. "Go away! I hate you- I never want to see you again! Just leave me alone!" Scotland felt every word dig a little hollow space in his heart. He back away and closed the door with him in the hall and his brother in the bedroom. He debated whether or not to go back in there, and demand that Arthur listen to him. Instead he just went back down the stairs.

He found a keg of ale and filled himself a glass. That's his last clear memory; afterwards it becomes hazy with booze and knocking things over and confusion. His thought were only half- thought, and his sentences were unheard and unintelligible, even to himself. More beer. More ale. More. However many drinks it will take to achieve oblivion. Glass shattered against the wall in front of him, and he dimly realized that he was the one who had thrown it.

He hazily opened his eyes- when did he close them?- and Arthur was peering down at him, holding his face in his hands. A glance over his brother's shoulder told him that he was still in the damn pub. "Arthur?" He slurred. Arthur's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Help me up, why don't ya?"

"Are you going to hit me again?" Arthur asked flatly. "No, Art. I promise." Arthur tightly gripped his shoulder and hauled up the redhead.  
"Shhh," Scotland suddenly commanded. Arthur froze. "Do ya hear that?" Scotland hissed. "I think so," Arthur said back.

Music was playing from the speakers. Normally, Scotland didn't mind it much, but here, now? It was slightly creepy.

" _Lay me down in the cold, cold ground_  
_Where before many more have gone_  
_Lay me down in the cold, cold ground_  
_Where before many more have gone_

_When they come I will stand my ground_  
_Stand my ground I'll not be afraid_

_Thoughts of home take away my fear_  
_Sweat and blood hide my veil of tears_

_Once a year say a prayer for me_  
_Close your eyes and remember me_

_Never more shall I see the sun_  
_For I fell to a German's gun_

_Lay me down in the cold,cold ground_  
_Where before many more have gone_  
_Lay me down in the cold, cold ground_  
_Where before many more have gone_

_Where before many more have gone_,"

"What song is that?" Arthur asked. He looked bemused. "Can you understand it?" Scotland asked. Arthur shook his head. "Don't worry about it, then." Arthur just rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever, just sit down. And Scotland... I don't hate you either."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scotland came slowly back to wakefulness. "Blimey," he muttered. "You're free to go, Mr. Kirkland," the American said dully. "Damn right I'm free to go," he snapped. He let himself out with shaky hands and jabbed to door to the elevator button.

Almost as soon as he stepped foot in the lobby, Arthur was all over him, concerned. "Scotland? Are you okay? You look pale. Would you like to get something to eat?" Scotland found that he couldn't look his brother in the eye. "I need a cigarette," he muttered. "What? I thought you'd quit smoking-"  
"Shut it, Arthur, I need a damn cigarette."

Scotland fished a stray cancer stick out of his pocket along with a lighter. His hands were shaking to hard to light it properly, and after watching him struggle for a few seconds, Arthur snatched the lighter out of his hand and lit it for him. "Thanks," Scotland said around the cylinder between his teeth. "Let's just go," Arthur sighed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"West! Thank Gott, I was starting to think you'd forgotten your awesome brother," Prussia greeted his brother. Ludwig sighed. "Just get in and stay down, Gilbert. Did you tell Hungary what was going on?" Prussia scoffed. "Of course he did," Elizaveta chimed in. "And we had a great time in this place! We had six false alarms and crammed ourselves in a tight corner!" Hungary's eyes were scary- looking. "I got here as soon as I could," Ludwig said honestly. "Ve! It was fun! We took all kinds of weird turns so the bad guys wouldn't find us!"

"Just get in, you two."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Arthur and Scotland finally made it to the bar and sat on the stools. "Two shots of malt whiskey," Scotland requested the bartender. "Um, make that a shot of malt whiskey and a stout," England quickly intervened.

"You Brits and your alcohol," a very familiar voice almost- slurred. "Oi! Scottish!" Allistor snapped. "Whatever, man! Same island, right?" Arthur face palmed. "Alfred, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Alfred gave him a lopsided grin. "What's ya calls it... Wallowing in self pity or summthin, right?" Arthur blinked and the bartender set down the drinks in front of him and Allistor.

"Yo barkeep! How about another scotch?" Alfred nearly shouted. "You're going to get alcohol poisoning, dude," the bartender warned him. "How long has he been here?" Arthur asked. "Two hours, maybe," the bartender shrugged.

"Dude, I've been wallowing for two hours? Sick! So what, can I have that scotch now?" The bartender just rolled his eyes and filled another glass. Arthur looked from his brother to Alfred and sighed. Scotland looked like he needed a few minutes alone, and Alfred was very liable to do something stupid.

"Alfred, pray tell me the cause of your wallowing," Arthur said. "Oohhhh, fancy words! Why am I wallowing? Why aren't you wallowing, my tea- drinking buddy? Oh yeah-" he snorted, obviously amused- "You didn't let Vargas and Egypt get kidnapped! I did!" Arthur was getting a headache. "What the hell are you talking about?" He snapped at Alfred. Alfred leaned in, smelling very much like alcohol, and started whispering really loudly. "I'm the hero, Iggy! I'm supposed to be heroic and shit! A hero that's not heroic is..." His eyes wandered around as if searching the bar for the correct word. "Worthless!" He finally said triumphantly.

Arthur let this sink in. "Alfred, did you seriously let what Spain said get to you?" Alfred laughed loudly and obnoxiously. "Duh, dude! Give the matador some credit, yo! He's right!" His voice dropped to a whisper again. "I know what happened to his boyfriend," he confided in a sing- song voice. "I know, Alfred, I'm the one that told you." Alfred blew a raspberry. "Whatevs, dude! Hey barkeep, you serve Bloody Marys?"

"That's enough," Arthur said abruptly. "I'm taking you home."  
"Whaaaat? Come on Iggy, I just got here!" Arthur mercilessly yanked Alfred out of the bar, yelling over his shoulder, "Ill come back tomorrow for the bill!"

The door clanged shut behind him, and the bartender gave Allistor a sympathetic look. "You need a ride?" He asked. Scotland shook his head. "I've got three other brothers, one will come around for me," he said indifferently. "Another whiskey?"

"Please."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"He's perfect! The boss will love him!"

"And what makes you so sure? He's too attached to his family, didn't you see the last bit?"

"Are you kidding? Alcohol and a big family! He's got two vices to squeeze him with! He's not too powerful, but he's easily controllable! Come on, Milan, recommend him!"

"You seem oddly enthusiastic today, Miller."

"Yes, Miller, you do seem a bit more energetic."

"It's nothing, boss just gave me permission to see my kids. So, are you going to recommend him?"

"Sure. You may actually be right."

"I know I'm right!"

* * *

**A/N: So, I'm wondering if I should write a chapter about the scientists or just move right along. PM or review, tell me how I'm doing, please! I love hearing from my readers!You can choose to interpret the last chapter in two different ways: Hungary could have chosen neither and died, or both while knowing she would fail. She did finish the test, in case you were confused. Until next time,**

**Roxy**

**P.S. Props to anyone who caught the Princess Bride reference.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Ugh this chapter is going to suck. Sorry for keeping you guys waiting, this chapter was hard to write. However I am currently working on the next three, so fret not, good readers. Pretend to enjoy this horrible thing I call literature.**

* * *

Fear** of a Nation**  
Switzerland's Session

Egypt woke up in his own bed, in his own home back in Cairo. He was miserable, he wanted to die. His whole body ached and his head was dizzyingly throbbing. He was nauseous and felt overall disgusting.

He didn't have the energy to groan. He tilted his head to the side and saw gross, red blisters up his forearms. Worst of all, he had absolutely no idea what time it was, what day it was, or what had happened since his interview with Milan.

Sharp- shooting pains crackled through his lungs with every inhale. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that he would fall asleep and wake up feeling better.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ludwig, upon arriving back at his home with Feliciano, Hungary, and Prussia, immediately set to work closing all the curtains and shutting the blinds. "This seems unnecessary, Ludwig. Why don't you just take me home? I'll be fine, I promise," Hungary said hopefully. Ludwig shook his head. "They'll look for you there," he said. "They'll look for me here," Prussia pointed out. "One crisis at a time, bruder."

Feliciano looked back and forth from Prussia to Germany. He finally decided to rest his gaze on Hungary. "Ve, Hungary! I made pasta!" Hungary grinned at him. "Really? I bet it's delicious! Where is it?" Feliciano led Hungary to the kitchen, chattering away. Prussia waited until the two had gone a safe distance away, and then started speaking to his brother in German, just in case. There was no need to rile up Feliciano if the conversation took a dark turn and he overheard it.

"You want to send Hungary and I back to Berlin, don't you?" He asked Ludwig. "I think that would be the wisest move," Germany admitted. "Well you can forget it, because I'm not going," Prussia declared with finality. "And neither will Elizaveta." Germany nodded in defeat. "I suppose I was expecting that."

"Good. Do you have any beer?" Prussia asked with a smile. "Don't I always?" Germany asked back. Prussia grinned wider and clapped his brother on the back before going to join Hungary and Italy in the kitchen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

England was driving America home with a small degree of difficulty. First Alfred kept telling him he was driving on the wrong side of the road- which he wasn't, he checked. When he gave that up, he counted on his fingers all the countries that had red, white, and blue as the sole colors on their flags- around thirty or forty, he announced. Finally he stopped talking altogether and stared at England, who felt like someone was drilling holes on that particular side of his face with their eyes.

"Alfred," he finally said. The silence was too uncomfortable for him to stand much longer. "Yesssss?" Alfred replied. "Um..." He tried to think of something to say. "What were you doing in that bar?" He finally asked. Alfred snorted. "I ain't that drunk, Iggy! I knows we already has this conversation... I think." Arthur nodded apologetically, remembering Alfred's comment about wallowing. "And drinking," Alfred added helpfully. "I was drinking too, Iggy." Suddenly he gasped. "Is it obvious? He asked with a stricken expression. "No, Alfred, it's not obvious at all."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief. "Phew! For a second I was afraid that I would be as terrible a drunk as you!" Arthur shook his head, slightly irritated. "Not as bad as me, but still pretty obnoxious." Alfred snorted. "I'm the obnoxious, I have the right to be the hero! Heehee, I mean I'm the hero, I have the right to be obnoxious! I may disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the lawyers your right to say it!" Alfred cheered.

Arthur furrowed his brow. "I thought you were supposed to defend to the death my right to say it," he said. Alfred shook his head earnestly. "Lawyers are worse!" He whispered as if a lawyer might be listening. Arthur suppressed a laugh as he pulled into the driveway of Alfred's house.

"Whoa, Iggy! Who's place is that?!"  
Alfred's eyes were bugging out. Arthur just rolled his own eyes.  
"It's yours, git. Come on, you're going to bed."

"With who?"  
"ALFRED!"  
"What?"  
Arthur dragged Alfred up the steps of his porch and through the majestic house to his bedroom. Arthur more or less tossed Alfred's heavy body onto the king- sized mattress and struggled to get the sheets and comforter over him. Alfred was soon asleep.

"He's so bloody cute when he's asleep and not running his mouth..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Switzerland was about as indifferent as usual to the events of the past month. When the call came for him to take his testing, he simply said that he would be there and hung up. He wasn't an idiot, though. He took an easily- concealed glock with him and instructed Liechtenstein to stay out of sight until he returned.

Switzerland drove to the office building. He was about to open the door and let himself in when he heard bickering inside. "Is he stupid?" A Japanese- accented voice asked. "England just left Scotland there, alone at the bar, and the didn't grab him?" Someone scoffed. A woman said, "The boss thinks that he can persuade him 'gently'."

Switzerland stayed frozen. Scotland? He must have misheard. He pushed open the door so thy wouldn't think he had been eavesdropping. "Ah, Switzerland. Please, come here. Our technician is taking some time off. Please, take a seat here and we will begin." The Czech woman grinned brightly at him as if the discussion between her and the glowering Japanese man never happened.

Switzerland, slightly bemused, settled into the machine.

Switzerland's hallucination was just like him: straightforward and a bit harsh.

He looked down directly in front of her as Liechtenstein sat at a fancy desk with a dark, shapeless figure stood behind her. She signed her name on professional-looking paper. He read a few upside- down lines and went cold.

"Lili..." Liechtenstein didn't react. Switzerland slammed his hand on the paper. The paper went straight through his hand as if it wasn't even there, and soon it was in the hand of the stranger. "Lili!" Liechtenstein and the stranger did not react. Their hands met in a business- like shake, and Liechtenstein faded. First she was solid, but became more and more opaque until you had to squint to see her.

And then she was gone.

Switzerland locked eyes with the stranger's faceless features. His normal indifference and neutrality had vanished. "You will regret this." He promised the stranger. The stranger laughed and Switzerland snarled at him. He felt a tap on hi shoulder and Lili"s voice. "It's okay, big brother. I wanted this." Switzerland nearly screamed at her. "You wanted to die? After all I've done to help you, protect you!" After seeing the small, sad smile on Lili"s face, Switzerland woke up from his nightmare.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Not much to write home about."

"Not really."

"Easily manipulated, I see."

"Yep. Clear and comprehensible."

"He's clear."

"Yes."

"..."

"..."

"I miss Miller's enthusiasm."

"Me too."

"I will never admit I said that."

"I will never admit that I agreed."

"I'm so tired..."

"Me too. You go home, I'll fill out the report."

"You are a lifesaver."

"Ha."

"You know what I mean."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Egypt's stomach growled harshly. He was as alarmed as his sluggish mind would let him be. He needed food, but couldn't muster the strength to get up. He went back to sleep. That might be just what he needs to get his strength back.

* * *

**A/N: Really freaking short, I know. I just felt like the whole "Holy shit she's dead" thing was getting old. Anyway, things to anticipate: North Korea, South Korea, India, and Austria will be coming soon. Possibly tomorrow. I don't know. I went to a dance last night and am still tired. Anyways, as usual, thanks for the support, the reviews and the reads. Shout out to Little Miss India, zoewinter1, Melza- chan, and Alya Spruce. You make my kokoro go dokey- dokey. **

**I love you guys!**

**Roxy**

**P.S. zoewinter1, I love PruHun too, which is why I wrote a oneshot type thing about it. it's called Save Me the Waltz, and maybe that will entertain you while you wait, if you haven't already read it. enjoy!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Since there is basically nothing on the topic of North Korea in Hetalia besides his name and interests, I'm going to base his character on historical fact and the events of the past century or so. I'm not trying to be offensive, so if you don't like what you read here, please don't mark me for death. I'm just writing it how I see it. On to the chapter! It should be A LOT BETTER than the last one. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
North Korea's Session

Egypt concentrated on moving his weakened leg muscles for a full minute before they actually responded to his brain and moved. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and used his arms to support his torso. Instantly a swarm of black dots invaded his vision and his head felt like cotton.

Breathe.

His lungs easily expanded and the air helped clear his vision. After he was able to clearly see again, he shifted forward until his feet touched the floor. He never felt safer; the floor was warm from being under the hot Egyptian sunlight and he finally made contact with the solid ground.

He hoped this safety wasn't as much an illusion as he felt it was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Romano watched a shirtless Spain pace back and forth in front of their bed. "España, it's the middle of the night. Come to bed, idiota." Spain barely even threw him a glance. "España. I. Am. Fine. Per favore, Antonio. Relax!"

Romano's irritation increased as he realized that he was more or less talking to a brick wall. "I called America worthless, Roma." Spain finally said. Romano, not expecting his boyfriend to speak, gave a start in surprise. "I bet that went over well," he said sarcastically. "Ha. Gilbert had to drag me out." He finally stopped pacing. "England called awhile ago. He said he found America at a bar, drunk." Romano blinked. "He can get drunk?" He asked. "Apparently. It was my fault, wasn't it, Roma?" His eyes were sad.

"Probably. He'll get over it, you know how he is." Romano tried to assure him. This didn't seem to make Spain feel better. Romano suppressed a sigh and slipped out from under the covers.

He slunk over behind his boyfriend and got on his tiptoes. He put his arms around Antonio's neck. He began placing small, chaste kisses on Antonio's shoulder and neck. "Tonio," he murmured against the tanned, silky skin, "Come to bed. I'm lonely and it's going to be your own damn fault if you don't get enough sleep and cause more trouble."

Antonio finally smiled and turned around slowly, Romano's arms remaining around him. He slid his arms around Romano and gave him a soft hug. "I was so scared, Romano," he whispered. "Sì, I know. But I'm here now. Can we just enjoy our time together, bastard?"

Antonio couldn't help but laugh at the nickname that Romano only used when annoyed with him. "Sì. Bedtime," Antonio finally agreed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

North Korea, or Im Hyung Soo, turned another page in a book that he had already read a thousand times; the biography of the Great Leader. His room was how he liked it, no furniture except the chair he sat on, a small table beside him, and a lamp to read by. The shades were drawn over the window to block out the light. He brushed a long strand from his face out of his eyesight.

A letter was slid under the crack in the door. He looked at it for a moment. It had been so long since he received mail that he almost didn't realize what that paper was. He set down the book and got up to read the letter.

He was wanted by scientists to tho through a process. He could do that. Easily. Were they suggested that he was too weak? He bristled and banged on the door to summon a servant. "Tell my boss that I am going on a trip. Ready a plane to America."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alfred woke up slowly. "Ugh!" He groaned. Sunlight was flooding through his stupid window. He flung an arm over his eyes and rolled over to look at the other side of his room. His head was pounding like a freaking leprechaun was hammering inside his skull. Leprechaun? Alfred wondered. Where did that thought come from- oh. The image of the four- leaf clover- emblazoned bar logo came to his mind. He went drinking. Right.

His ears and the back of his neck burned and turned a bright red. Arthur was snoozing away in a chair next to the bed. Alfred lay still and quiet, for some reason wanting to memorize this moment. The warmth of the sun on his back, Arthur's hair falling messily into his eyes, the total peace. "He's damn cute when he isn't caller me a wanker," he thought, barely containing a giggle.

His cell phone chose that exact moment to ring harshly and loudly. Arthur jerked awake with an ungentlemanly snort. Alfred bit his lip to keep himself from swearing. "Answer call," he ordered his phone. A woman's frenzied voice came over the speakers. "Sir, a jet from North Korea is headed straight for Washington!"

Alfred sat bolt upright and regretted it. "Shoot the asshole down!" He ordered. "America!" Arthur protested, still half- asleep. Alfred ignored him. "Right away, sir. A missile is now target- locked on the aircraft." England's eyes widened as he became more awake. "America! Stop! It could be North Korea coming over for his testing!"

Alfred paused.

"Sir, the missiles will launch in T minus ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight-" Alfred huffed. "Fine. Kill the missiles, Amanda. Let him land, but detain him at the airport until i get there." Arthur sighed in relief. "Sir, is that a good idea?" Alfred shot Arthur a look. "No, but right now it's what we've gotta do. Leave it alone. He'll be gone in a week, tops."  
"I'll inform the president," Amanda said, sounding disappointed. "Thanks, Mandy."  
"No problem, sir," she said glumly. The line went dead.

"Bloody hell, America, it was over sixty years ago. Can't you let it go?" Arthur cursed himself for opening his mouth when those damned clear blue eyes nearly sliced him in half with a sharp look. "He threatened to nuke me!" He reminded Arthur. "Right."

Alfred growled uncharacteristically. "I SO do not need this right now," he grumbled. "A hangover AND that freaking nutcase in my capital in one day? God... Hey that reminds me," he said suddenly. "How did I get home last night?" Arthur turned a light shade of pink at the memory. "I drove you home from the pub," he said. Alfred furrowed his brow. "What was I doing in a bat?" He asked. "Drinking. And wallowing." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Iggy."

"Don't call me that!" Alfred laughed and got out of bed- regretting it, the sudden rush of blood was decidedly not helping his head. "I'm gonna meet him at the landing site," Alfred announced. "I swear to God that nut will not leave my sight in my capital. Not in this freaking lifetime."

"Well then I'm going with you. No way are you and him going to be alone together. You'll kill each other." Alfred rolled his eyes. "No we... Mmm, maybe that's actually a good idea. Thanks, Ig- Arthur." England smiled a little bit. Do you want to get breakfast now or on the way to the landing strip?" Arthur asked. "We'll eat now, as long as you're not making it," he added teasingly.

"Oi!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

North Korea's plane, which was about thirty years behind the day's technology, made a smooth landing onto the runway. When it finally came to a complete stop, the stairs unfolded from the side of the plane and North Korea descended down. Arthur snuck a glance at Alfred. His face was oddly stoic- looking and calm. That didn't stop the hostility rolling off of him like waves, though.

North Korea approached them with only one assistant, a short male in his thirties. "You are to be accompanying me while I am here?" He asked of Alfred. Alfred nodded. "Yep. I'm going to be your personal escort during your stay." North Korea smiled humorlessly. "And how long will my stay be?"

He asked. "Your testing started tomorrow morning, and that could take anytime from three hours to six days. Once it's over, though, you will be right back on that plane, and depending on how well behaved you were while you were here, I may or may not shoot you down." North Korea raised a delicate eyebrow. "Really? No detainments? No interrogations?" Alfred's polite smile looked physically painful. "Well, here in America, we don't imprison and torture visitors for no reason."

Arthur looked back and forth at the two countries like he was watching a tennis match. This degree of tension with America involved had not been felt since the Cold War. That he was quite certain of. The two stared each other down until Arthur finally coughed loudly. "Um, right, North Korea, your hotel room is ready. If you will just follow me, we have a car waiting for you..."

Alfred watched Arthur lead North Korea away and mentally slapped himself. So much for maturity and diplomacy. But damn, that guy annoyed him, trampling on everything he stood for. He cleared his throat and followed the two to the car.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gilbert thought all that night about what his brother had said about going back to Berlin. Honestly, it was sounding like a better and better idea as he thought about it more. It wasn't because he was scared, no! he was too awesome for that. But what if him and Hungary being there put his brother and Feliciano in danger?

He chewed the inside of his cheek nervously while he wavered between leaving and staying. If he left, he'd have to take Hungary with him- he didn't think that would be too difficult, he'd only have to point out the danger they posed to Feliciano. He suddenly had another idea: tell Ludwig and Feliciano that he and Hungary were going home to Berlin, but instead to to a town nearby.

That's a good idea. If Ludwig and Feliciano were to be interrogated, nothing they said could put him and Elizaveta in danger anyway. Perfect. "It may not come to that," he reminded himself. But the odds to him seemed pretty good that it would.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Alfred and Arthur escorted North Korea to the office building. The Asian man was seriously grating on Alfred's nerves- a hard thing to accomplish, as we all know. First there were the scandalized looks at the churchgoers (it was a Sunday, after all), then the disbelief and disgust clearly etched on his features when he saw two men holding hands while crossing the street, although he reacted much the same way upon witnessing and man and a woman holding hands as well.

When he commented on the largeness of his people, Alfred decided that of the guy so much as blinked a bit too quickly, he'd be getting back on his plane with a quarter- tank of gas. He let Arthur escort him inside, he couldn't possibly spend another second with that guy and not make things worse.

North Korea calmly thanked Arthur for his civility and let the scientists do their jobs.

He woke into his own home with a start. He was sprawled out on the stone floor of his grand hall, where the Great Leader would ordinarily receive visits from generals and other important people.

Instead of the Great Leader, though, was a certain blonde- haired, blue- eyed son of a bitch who looked down on him with obvious disdain. "Ya know what, Im? I don't think ya really know how to be a nation." Im Hyung snarled at him angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped at the American.

The blonde tsked at him. "Indoctrinating your children to hate, torture, denying your people the freedom of religion..." America shook his head in mock disappointment. "But you know what really pisses me off about you?" He asked. North Korea only glared in response.

America snapped two fingers and pointed at the wall on his left, which was bare except for two photos. One photo was of the Great Leader Kim Jong Un when he was young, all porkyness and flabby cheeks. The other was of a small Korean girl, obviously poor, obviously near death. You could identify every skinny bone through the paper-'thin layer of skin. "What really pisses me off is a bunch of fat leaders ruling a starving country," America said with absolute contempt.

North Korea couldn't find it within himself to argue. "Well, whaddya have to say, Im? It's not your fault, of course it isn't, it's your boss's, right?" North Korea jumped- America was right next to him. "A nation is supposed to protect it's people, Im." North Korea jerked away from America with a snarl. "I tried to protect them- from you! But the whole world turned against me! They alienated me for trying to protect my people from your imperialist ways. No one would believe me. They called me crazy for seeing you for what you really are. Bastard!" He spat at America.

America only dodged the spit and smiled at him. "Your country is mine now," he told North Korea. "I'm going to fix it. You've had chances to fix it, dude. Plenty of 'em. But you didn't do it. So for now, I'm going to be in charge. Don't worry about it, it's going to be great! The next generation will make their own choices about how they feel towards others, the starving people will get properly nourished, and let me tell you, my health department is going to clean this place up! Wow!"

America just kept on talking about how he was going to build a better North Korea. It made him feel physically ill. The thought of this bastard being in charge of him- he couldn't bear it.

"Just you wait, dude. You'll thank me, I promise." America flashed him his winning grin.

Blinding heat rushed into his ears, scalp, and gut, and continued to burn. With a yell of rage that was easily more animal than human, North Korea launched himself at the United States of America. His hands were in a position that made them look like claws, and his main objective was America's face. America, looking slightly amused, waited until the very last second to take a step to his right. North Korea sailed through empty air, but made up for it by landing on his feet and springing at him like a wild cat.

This time America sidestepped to the left, but North Korea didn't land quite so gracefully. He got a running start and hurled himself at America for the last time.

America thrust the palm of one hand on North Korea's chest, and when his legs caught up to him, he raised his hand slightly, taking the smaller nation with him, and finally brought his hand down and slammed North Korea onto the floor below, knocking the breath from his lungs and making his back scream in pain. America took away his hand but left his foot on North Korea's chest.

"Wanna rematch?" He asked cheekily. North Korea spat on him. Refusing to concede defeat, he grabbed America's leg and attempted to flip him over with it. "Stop, dude, that tickles."

"Release me, American Bastard! I will not submit, I swear I will never submit to you, never!" America just rolled his eyes and mouthed what his victim was saying as he said it. "Dude, I admire the effort. For real. But you don't have to submit. I've already won. You're mine."

North Korea spat at him one last time and tried to roll away. He was still fighting as he began surfacing into consciousness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, is he delusional, or is his boss lying to him about America being imperialist?"

"That's the only thing you're asking about, Miller?"

"Just wondering! Ahem... So he's not particularly strong, but he's definitely a fighter, and his hatred of America could be used for the boss's agenda for sure."

"I quite agree, Miller. Although, I'm not sure if we want someone who hates the Japanese as much as he hates the Americans on our side. He could get unpredictable."

"That's a given, Yakazowi, they're nations, after all. Anyway, I'll put a note by his name and let the boss decide. He seems to be more enthusiastic as of late."

"Everyone is. Can you guys believe Mathison is still breathing?"

"I heard that too. He must have made one hell of a counter- offer."

"I have to say, I'm disappointed. That guy irritates me, and he's always coming on to Milan."

"He does not, Miller!"

"Yeah he does, don't try to deny it."

"Shut up, Miller..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bye- Bye! Saiyonara! Bon voyage! Have a safe trip! Good- bye! Hey pilot, think you can manage to get the hell off the ground?" Alfred was waving and could not wait to see the plane with North Korea on it get the hell out of his country. Arthur tossed him a reproving glare. "You've been thinking of nothing but this moment ever since he arrived, haven't you?" He asked.

Alfred grinned cheekily at him. "What can I say, England? Momma always told me to concentrate on things that make me happy!"

England laughed. He couldn't help it. "Come on, you bloody git, I need a ride home," he playfully scolded Alfred. "You got it, dude!" And with one last wave (which might have turned into him flipping the bird, England wasn't quite sure) at the disappearing plane, he threw his arm around the elder nation and starting whistling Yankee Doodle on his way to the car.

* * *

**A/N: Basically, I love Korean culture- you know, before it became modern and stuff. Pre- 1700's, that's when I'd like to visit Korea. Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this. The next few chapters may become more Romano, Spain, Prussia and Hungary- centric. Hope you guys liked that, South Korea is next!**

**Love you guys!**

**Roxy**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Do you know what kind of hell I endured while writing this? A six- hour car ride with a screaming nine, four, and three year old. Jeez. I had wanted to stay home and write and relax, but nooooo, just had to go to freaking... Ugh. Never mind. Please enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
South Korea's Session

Alfred dialed Arthur's phone number at the speed of light. "IGGY!" He shouted into the phone when he picked up. "Bloody hell, Alfred! Are you okay?!" Arthur's panicked voice came back over the phone. "I'm fantastic, bro! South Korea's coming to town!" Alfred could tell England wanted to curse him, but didn't care. "That's great, Alfred. How long has it been since the last time you two saw each other again?"

"Too long, dude! South and I are totally going to hit town once his thingy's done. Wanna come with?" Alfred bounced on the balls of his feet hopefully. "I'm sorry, Alfred, I've really neglected my duties in all of this and I need to get back to them. But I'm glad to see you've recovered from your hangover," Arthur offered.

Alfred snorted. "Recover? Please. Hangovers are scared of me, dude! I'm the freaking hero!" Arthur laughed. "I'm going to have to say good- bye, Alfred." Alfred pouted. "Bye, Iggy."

"Will you ever stop calling me-"

"Nope! See ya!" Click.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia stuffed the last pair of boxers into a small pack. He was working feverishly by the light of a street lamp from the road nearby. He had on his black jeans and hoodie, with the shiny metal of his Iron Cross pendent tucked safely under the fabric. He zipped up the bag for the final time and soundlessly tiptoed past his brother's room to the kitchen, where Elizaveta was already waiting.

"Ready?" He asked. Elizaveta gave one quick nod, and the two stole out of the house to the car like a couple of teenagers.

Prussia was careful to keep the headlights turned off as well as the internal lights. He and Elizaveta didn't want to take any chances; they put the car in neutral and pushed it halfway down the street before getting up the courage to actually turn the engine on and let the motor run as loudly as it wanted.

"Where are we going, Gilbert?" Elizaveta asked once they made it safely out of the residential area of the town. Gilbert slowed down in preparation for a red light. "The capital of the state we're closest to, Maryland, is called Annapolis. We'll find a place there." Hungary gave him a perplexed look. "I thought Washington D.C. was in Maryland," she said.

Gilbert shook his head. "Nope. Washington is it's own thing, it's not in Maryland or Virginia. The 'D. C.' stands for 'District of Colombia. It's a district, not a state or part of a state." Hungary stared at him. "And how did you come to possess this knowledge?" She asked. "I basically said the same thing you did in front of America." Prussia shrugged. "Oh."

And then, more confusion. "But, isn't Baltimore the capital of Maryland?" Prussia shook his head. "Wrong again, Elizaveta! Baltimore's an important port, but all the fancy government stuff goes on in Annapolis." Hungary folded her arms. "Who told you that?" She demanded. "Can't I just be awesome enough to know? Does someone always have to tell me?" Prussia asked.

"No. You can't just be awesome enough to know." Prussia threw her an affronted look. "Fine. I was bored and started up looking random things on the Internet." Hungary giggled. "What else did you look up?" She asked. "How hot it would have to be to melt a frying pan." The giggles stopped abruptly. "You wouldn't," she said. He gave her a wolfish grin. "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't." Hungary scoffed at him.

"The drive's about half an hour long, you can get some sleep if you like," Prussia said awkwardly. Hungary looked back at him in surprise. "Thanks." Prussia stared at the road. "No problem."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

South Korea was greeted heartily by Alfred, secret handshake and all. "I heard my brother was here," South Korea said with widened eyes. Alfred scoffed. "Yeah, that was a bit of a pain... You know how he gets on my nerves." South Korea nodded emphatically. The two exchanged jokes and laughs all the way to the office building. "Good luck, bro. I'll be right out here waiting," Alfred assured him. South Korea gave him a wide grin and a thumbs- up before turning and scrambling to the elevator.

South Korea shoved the door open, panting. "I'm sorry I am late, I am not usually..." He trailed off when he was greeted with the sight of three people in lab coats and a steel- gray recliner that had a strange visor- esque thin held above it.

His eyes darted to the scientists for instruction. "Just take a seat here, Mr. South Korea." Dr. Miller said. South Korea swallowed back nervous bile that rose in his throat. He crossed the room while consciously projecting false confidence.

He shifted in the chair to get comfortable. His eyelids got heavy and his mind felt slower. The visor he noticed earlier descended on his vision, covering his face. His eyelids were too heavy to support themselves and they crashed down to meet their lower halves.

He felt himself free falling through nothingness. He thought he wouldn't be able to move his body during the process, or it would at least feel as strange and disconnected as a dream. He was wrong on both counts. He was fully in command of his various limbs, as he found out while flailing around in the emptiness. There was no detachment, either. He felt every rush of air against his cells, over flap of his clothes in the spiral downward.

"OUCH!"

This surprised, painful yelp was elicited from the poor nation as his back was slammed into gravel. A tiny, whispery moan rose from his lips, akin to one he moaned when his brother once kicked him in the balls with steel- toed boots. He still hasn't quite forgiven Im for that.

He waited until the sharp throbbing had diminished somewhat before getting up and brushing rocks from his skin.

He was in the middle between two barbed wired fences that were a mile apart. He huffed a painful laugh. Why was he expecting to be anywhere besides the DMZ?

The DMZ wasn't quite so de- militarized anymore. Helicopters with the American flag emblazoned on them were hovering and men and woman were scrambling to board them. Fear gripped his heart- they were leaving? But, what about his brother? "Alfred!" He shouted. He looked around for the blonde, his friend.

He finally spotted him helping a short female soldier into the helicopter. "Alfred!" Alfred seemed to freeze at hearing his voice, and then jumped into the helicopter, using powerful arm muscles to haul himself up. "Alfred! What are you doing!" He yelled. Alfred hung his head and turned back to face his friend. "I'm sorry, bro! I can't protect you anymore." South Korea felt like he had been slapped. "But... North... Hyung... He'll take over!"

Alfred shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry! My people have been here longer than they should have. We're needed elsewhere, dude. You can protect your people by yourself. I know you can!" South Korea shook his head, tears rushing down his face. "I can't!" He howled at Alfred. Alfred gave him an encouraging smile. "Just remember the training!" He shouted over the whir if the helicopter blades.

"Training- Alfred, PLEASE!" Alfred only gave him a sad look as the helicopter rose into the air and took off with the American soldiers. The others ascended to join the lead one. A swarm of military aircraft full of soldiers rose into the air, leaving Yong in the middle of a no- man's land. A rare breeze tickled the back of his neck, which was exposed by his short hair.

"Finally. The American bastards are gone."

Yong Soon's whole body went cold despite the scorching heat. "Hyung." He replied. He turned his back to face his smirking brother. "Yong. Come home to me. We will build a stronger Korea than there has ever been before." Yong shook his head violently. "I know how your people suffer, Hyung. I won't allow my people to be oppressed as yours are." His brother's eyes narrowed. "They are not oppressed," he ground out between his teeth. Yong barked a cruel laugh.

Hyung assessed his brother carefully. "It seems that you will not come home willingly. Yong, I swear to you that I will bring you back to me, in one piece or one thousand!" With that, he unsheathed his geom and shifted in a ready- fighting stance. Yong realized that he had no weapons, but slid into a ready position as well. The two brothers watched each other like caged lions. Every shift of weight and dart of the eye was noticed.

Yong realized, as he was waiting for Hyung to make his move, that he had missed this. He missed the flurry of kicks and strikes and blocks. He missed the fight. Just him and Hyung, his own skills and flesh. He used to live for this sort of thing.

The moment he had been waiting and preparing for had arrived. Hyung unleashed a yell that would have terrified lesser opponents and charged at Yong, with his goem lifted to arc through his brother in a controlled, potentially lethal strike. Yong whipped his body to face from one side to the other. His brother's arm was outstretched, expecting the blade to go through Yong. Yong, with his brother's arm nearly flush against his chest, combined an ancient Tae Kwon Do technique with something Alfred had taught him during training. He used his left hand to push Hyung's elbow away from him while his right hand snaked under Hyung's wrist and pulled towards him. The two actions were nearly simultaneous. The goem dropped to the ground.

Hyung smirked at Yong and growled appreciatively. "Good start, brother." Hyung's left foot swung out of nowhere and was above Yong's head. He barely hand time to react, but when he did, he grabbed hold of Hyung's ankle and yanked towards him with all his strength.

Hyung managed to somehow keep his balance. Afterwards, the fight was a hurricane of limbs flying in controlled, yet unpredictable strikes. Yong went on autopilot during the fight and thought about nothing except to block and counter strike until suddenly his brother was on his knees before him, defeated.

"You win, brother."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scotland's phone rang. "Aye," he answered. "Mr. Allistor Kirkland?" A voice on the other end asked. "That's me," he said nonchalantly, sipping his beer. "Hello. This is Dr. Milan. I'd like to meet with you soon. Would that be possible?"

Was this woman serious? All right, he would play along. "Why not? How about we meet at Brian Boru, right outside town?" He suggested. "That sounds wonderful. Seven o'clock on Saturday?" She asked. "Sure."

"See you then." Click.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Alfred was bouncing in his seat waiting for Yong. "So? How was it, tell me tell me!" He begged Yong when he got out of the elevator. Yong shrugged. "The scientists said I did a good job. Apparently the machine that they're using was first built in Korea."

* * *

**A/N: I actually take Tae Kwon Do classes, so this was really fun for me to write about. Until next time, though I'm not sure when that will be. Love you guys!**

**Roxy**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Ugh I'm sorry this took so long. I'm running out of ideas. As usual, plese enjoy.**

* * *

**Fear of a****Nation**

Austria's Session

The first time Elizaveta felt stirring of doubt about leaving with Gilbert wasn't when they got lost in the confusing pattern of intersections and circles, nor even when they nearly drove off a pier. Nope. Their first real doubt occurred when they went to get breakfast in Spa Creek.

The two walked in, looking like a couple for all the bickering. The delicious scent of freshly baked bread, chocolate, and a hint of cinnamon wafted towards them. They waited in the line for a few minutes with eyes roving over the amazing- looking treats. Danishes, chocolate- drizzled croissants, cinnamon rolls, muffins of all kinds, plus a few others- they were all arranged in an enticing display. They ordered a chocolate- drizzzled croissant for Gilbert and a cheese danish for Elizaveta.

They decided to take their breakfast and eat it at a table outside. It was a beautiful day. Elizaveta waited until Gilbert had taken a bite of his pastry before saying, "Gilbert, I don't think this was such a good idea." Gilbert eyed her and wiped the chocolate from his chin. "Would you like to go back?" he asked. She hesitated. "It's just... How long will we be here, Gilbert? How long will they chase us?" Gilbert couldn't answer her. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I think that they will give up, after awhile." Elizaveta nearly growled in frustration. "Gilbert! They can't kill us as easily as we can kill them. Let's take the fight to them!"

Gilbert tried not to roll his eyes. He had already heard this argument. "And then what, Elizaveta? Another World War? Because if we attack and kill those humans, that's what we're looking at. America will have to take action so he doesn't seem weak to his people or others. We- you and me, and whoever sides with meine awesome self- will have to face him. Eyebrows, Francis and Birdie will side with America. The others.." he shrugged. "I don't know."

Elizaveta pursed her lips. She hated to admit that he was right. He suddenly leaned across the small table and gripped her hand. She couldn't tear her gaze from those smoldering eyes. "I will not be responsible for another World War, Elizaveta," he warned her. She could only swallow and nod. "Could we at least go back for Feliciano?" she asked. Prussia shook his head. "Nein. Ludwig will take care of him." Elizaveta swallowed the rest of her danish and watched Gilbert swallow his croissant.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Austria waited with a pounding skull for the booze to make it's way out of his system. His eyes were shut tight and glasses were off to the side, forgotten. The ceiling fan over his bed rotated lazily. Vague ememories of Hungary swam through his mind, but that was probably a hallucination. he hummed quietly to himself,

"_We all live in a yellow submarine_

_Yellow submarine_

_Yellow submarine..."_

He stopped abruptly. That song made no sense whatsoever. How did he even know that song?

He slid the cold compress off his forehead and slipped his glasses on. It was time to leave for his test. He buttoned a fresh shirt and pants onto his body.

His bedmate woke up alone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Austria's hallucination started off badly.

It was dark, too dark to see anyting. His hands reached out blindly for something to anchor himself to, but felt nothing. His hand moved sluggishly, and it felt odd. He couldn't get enough air, and he desperately tried to suck in air and expel it. Expelling it wasn't a problem, but receiving it was. Panic grew in his chest and his heart struggled to beat normally.

He opened his mouth to let out a scream. The scream never left him because he couldn't muster a sound. His hands flew to his mouth, thinking that perhaps a foreign object was in his mouth, blocking air. Or maybe fingers were wrapped around his throat? He felt nothing but his own slimy skin.

Something clicked in his brain. It might have been the rush of cold on by his arm or the way his hair felt like it was moving independently. But somehow, Austria realized that he was drowning. He was so completely immered in the water that at first he didn't recognize the sensation of becoming totally soaked.

The realization tore through his mind that _he was drowning._ Panic set in and he threw out his arms, flapping them wildly to make his body move towards the surface. He needed to go up. _Which way was up? _He kicked his legs when his arm began to weaken and tire. His legs moved as if in syrup. His lungs were on fire, burning, begging for oxygen. They couldn't stay still, they needed to perform their function. Their function was to expand and contract, over and over to bring oxygen to his brain.

His lungs expanded of their own accord, sucking water down his throat. He choked on the sheer volume of it and tried to swallow it. When his belly felt full to bursting, he simply tried to force it out. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed, and his head was in so much pain that it blocked out everything but the water trickling up his nose, his lungs filling with liquid, and the fluttering, sometimes violent spasms of his throat.

He thought he felt a hand on his eyes his eyes drifted shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What the hell?"

"No idea."

"Did you see his blood- alcohol level? If we drank that much, we'd be dead!"

"He's had centuries to build up a tolerance, I guess."

"Focus, guys. Drowning doesn't make any sense. Why?"

"He's a landlocked country, so maybe he can't swim very well. And maybe the fact that he hallucinated this shows that he's made peace with other, more serious things."

"Maybe it's a metaphor."

"Metaphor? Explain."

"Maybe he's afraid of being overwhelmed, like responsibilities or other things. Maybe that maifested itself into the sensation of drowning."

"Hm. I like that. He poses no serious threat, I vote to pass him."

"Seconded."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Milan nervously ran a finger through a lock of her hair. The menu stared at her as if wondering if she would ever open it. She started to hope that Scotland wouldn't show up and she could leave. She was not good at this, why couldn't Fujiko-

There he was.

"You look lovely," he said to her smoothly. Her mouth nearly dropped open. "As do you," she said when she could manage a reply. _"Let the games begin,"_ she thought dryly as the Scot sat down to begin their date.

* * *

**A/N: Austria, why you being so naughty all the sudden? I wish I could tell you guys, but sadly not just yet. Be patient, lovelies. Thanks for the continued support!**

**Roxy**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I keep putting off India because I have a very vague idea of what I want to do with him. Very vague, but it's there.**  
**Also mixing it up a little today. I don't really think it's necessary for the two Irelands to have separate sessions, so they're going to share the machine in this chapter. :3**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
Ireland Brother's Session

Under the charming, gentlemanly façade, Scotland was being cold, calculating, and tightly wound. The same could be said for Milan. Nothing went unnoticed in either of their sharp minds.

Milan analyzed periodically the body language and mood of the Scot. There were only two rules in a game like this: do only what you are prepared to pay the consequences for, and you are only as safe as they feel. He maintained eye contact with her and gave her gentle smiles. When their drinks came, a beer for him in a tall glass and a glass of wine for her, he raised his cup towards hers with a tentative grin and said, "Sláinte." She just as hesitantly clinked her glass against his, and slowly, gradually allowed her guard to slip away as the night went on.

"So anyways, this big lout of a man puts his hand up the waitress's skirt, and I could already tell that she's had quite enough of it. She pulls a can of Mace out of her bosom, if you can believe it, and tells him, "Sir, if it was any other time of the month, I wouldn't mind so much.'" Scotland finished his story with a snort of laughter. Milan couldn't help herself, she helplessly laughed with him, though her cheeks were red with a furious blush.

When they had finished their giggling, Milan wiped her mouth with her napkin. "So, Mr. Scotland-" he waved his hand dismissively. "Call me Allistor, hen." She blushed a light pink. "Alright, Allistor... What's it like, being a nation?" With a twinkle in his eye, he returned with, "What's it like being a scientist?"  
"What? That's not fair, I asked you first!" Allistor took another gulp of his beer. "Aye, I suppose ya did," he agreed. "How d'ya want me to answer? It's not like I've experienced anything to compare my own self with."

Milan thought about it. "True, I guess," she admitted. "You haven't answered my question. What's being a scientist like?" Scotland pressed. "Psychologist, actually," she corrected him. "Ah," Allistor groaned good- naturedly. "Even better." Milan couldn't help but giggle at the anticipated reaction. "I actually worked at Scotland Yard for a bit after college," she added.

One of the most difficult things to do in operations of this nature is using knowledge that you aren't supposed to have. Much easier than that is being presented information that you shouldn't already know and pretending ignorance.

"You worked at my little brother's police headquarters? Not bad, miss. I bet you liked it there." Scotland wagered with a grin. Milan grinned as well and ducked her head. "It was pretty exciting, yeah," she admitted. "But I realized that my services were needed more in the general populace." He raised an eyebrow. "What's that to mean, exactly?" Milan took a sip of her white wine. "Every few days, there was a new victim. Rape, molestation, assault, trauma. At the time, my job was to help the policemen. But every time I saw the victims shuffling in and out... I wanted to help them, but I was never allowed. It could jeopardize the case."

Milan realized that she was giving away far too much about herself and getting nothing in return. She took another long swig of wine from her glass. "I believe, Mr. Kirkland, that you know me far better than I know you," she said with a playful glint in her eyes.

Allistor tensed for a split second. He gave a fake chuckle that sounded a bit convincing. "I wouldn't say that, miss. You've seen pretty intimate details of my head," he tapped his temple gently. "I've not shared those details with anyone. It'd be too easy for an enemy of the UK to take advantage." Milan nodded, understanding. "You and your brothers have had a rocky past," she commented. It was Allistor's turn to nod- although he did so guiltily. "Aye... We were always at each other's throats."

"But now you guys are better?" She asked. Scotland nodded absently. "That doesn't mean I don't regret it, though. Arthur's my brother. I should have done a better job of protecting him. Do you have siblings?" Milan shook her head. "No, I was- and still am, as far as I know- an only child. I only ever had overprotective parents." A smile twitched at Allistor's lips. "That doesn't sound too bad," he mused. "As nations, we don't exactly have the family bonds that humans quite have. Relationships with each other... It's risky. Our bosses might decide they hate each other, declare war, and then it's just broken hearts and bones everywhere."

Milan was captivated despite herself. This man was exotic, handsome, from a world so different from her own. "That sounds... I can't imagine it," she managed. Scotland shrugged. "So I mostly let Arthur take care of the international affairs. Don't tell him I said this, because I'll deny it, but in the relationships department, Arthur's made of stronger stuff than I." He gave her a cheeky wink.

"Allistor... I honestly shouldn't be saying this. The people running this project..." She hesitated, and Allistor suddenly realized that the constant blush was just her inability to hold her alcohol. "The people running this project believe as you do, that relationships with other nations are bad ideas. They go so far as to call it a weakness," she gave him a piercing, meaningful stare. He swallowed. "Would such... Attachment be reason enough to be called inadequate?" He asked somewhat apprehensively. Milan bit her lip. "That really depends. The strength of the relationship and how it affects the interests of their bosses involved are the main factors, I believe. Allistor-"

She impulsively reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He started, but didn't jerk away. Her intensity startled him. "They've been watching Arthur, France, and America very closely. They know of France and England's past, and suspect something between him and America. Switzerland and Liechtenstein, too. Tell Arthur to be careful, please." Allistor's pulse was loudly thudding in his ears and his hand closed around Milan's. "Whatcha mean? They're watching us? Who's they?" Milan seemed to realize what she'd done. "Nothing, I- shouldn't have said anything. It's part of the test, looking for side affects-"

Allistor started speaking very fast in a very low voice. "That's total bollocks and we both know it. You know more than you're letting on, psychologist. I'm not going to make you tell me anything. But if you respect me, and my friends and what we do, answer me this: are you a threat to us?" Milan was breathless. He was so... She couldn't describe this man. She had to answer him. Her gut felt hot, pressuring her to answer him. "Yes." She said. "But there's a way to protect your family." His grip on her hand tightened. "And what might that be?" He asked huskily. His eyes ravaged her face like a hungry wolf, searching for something, she didn't know what. "Become a fixture on iithe project," she whispered. "Earn a place in our organization, and we won't touch your brothers. No one, nothing can get to the loved ones of our members. Join us, and you become untouchable."

The moment of truth has arrived. Milan held her breath. The entire purpose of this date, this whole web of deceit and half- truths, it all hung in the balance. A single word or interruption could tear the entire night to shreds. She wondered briefly what her boss would say if she failed.

"I'll think it over," Allistor finally said. "This deal sounds as sweet as the wine on your lips."

Milan giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl. The spell was broken. "It's getting late. May I drive you home?" Allistor asked mock- formally. Milan but her lip. "All right," she relented when she saw Allistor begin to look slightly crestfallen. At her answer, a wide, white- toothed smile stole across his features. "Thank ye for letting me accompany ya. It'd be my delight, Ms. Milan," he escorted her to her car and held the door open for her to hop in. Before he could close it, she stopped it with her hand. "Call me Dusana," she requested.

Allistor smiled and closed the door. Once his expression was out of her view, his smile dropped and he scowled. "Right clever, that one," he muttered before letting himself into the driver's side.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Connor and Sean got a late start the next morning, as expected of them. They raced each other through the streets of D. C. to the office building.  
It was a tie, but Sean would swear that he was half a nano- second faster. What was waiting for them in the sterile room was unusual, to say the least.

Two throne- like chairs faced each other in the center of a room. The walls seemed to be made out of the high- tech screens that would show the scientists their hallucinations. Between the two headrests was an odd metal rod. The brothers exchanged a glance.

Milan breezed over with a glowing look about her. "Connor and Sean Kirkland, yes? Please, come sit down, it doesn't matter which side you sit on." The Irish brothers followed her instructions. Connor say in the seat facing right, Sean in the seat facing the left. The aforementioned metal rod was positioned to lightly touch their foreheads. It was an odd sensation; an intense, electric- type vibration pressing into their foreheads. "You two will share a hallucination," the American scientist told them. The Japanese man ignored everyone in the room in favor of his tablet.

Connor took a deep breath and let his eyes shut first, then Sean, following his lead.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing the brothers felt was an intense whipping of wind tearing through their tousled hair and clothes. They smelled the familiar, clean scent of a storm about to break. Connor felt grainy dirt under his boots and Sean slowly opened his eyes. Connor gasped, but Sean simply furrowed his brow.

A potato field.

A dry, sandy- soiled, dead potato field. The brothers shared a panicked look.

"Oi," a small voice said. The brothers jumped three feet in the air. "Wee lass!" Sean gasped when he caught sight of the speaker. She was tiny and bony with sunken- in eyes and cheeks. "What the hell d'ya think yer doin' out here? A storm's about to break!"

The little girl's green eyes flashed defiantly. "What can a storm do? Make noise, send harmless rain that might make something grow. Once in a blue moon, lightening might strike something we care about." She lifted her chin. "What's a storm to do?" Connor stared at her. "You've grown too fast, lassie," he observed. "Thank you," she responded. "I'll be having whatever food you've got in those pockets, now."

Sean lifted a thick eyebrow. "Terrible sorry, lass. I haven't got anything with me. Nor's him," he jerked his head to Connor. The little girl glared heavily at them. "Liars," she spat.

Her green dancing eyes immediately flashed red and her body elongated and stretched until she towered over them. She snarled at them, showing a poisonous- red forked tongue and carnivorous teeth. Huge, raggedy black bat- like wings unfolded from her back. "Pixie!" Sean yelled. The brothers turned on their heels and ran in the opposite direction.

Their feet dug into the sandy soil and used their heels to propel them forward. Wind from the coming storm buffeted them, pushing them back to the vicious faerie. Connor wondered briefly if the pixie would swallow them whole or take her own sweet time tearing off their limbs.

Sean was pretty much terrified. There's no other way to put it. He took a look at his brother. Connor's pale face was flushed and he was quickly tiring. "Oi, Connor! Put some strength in your heels!" Sean bellowed. Connor managed another burst of speed at his words. Sean skidded to a stop and raised his fists to the hissing pixie boring down on him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Survival instinct is good, willingness to sacrifice himself for his brother is admirable. What's the issue?"

"The issue, Yakazowi, is the conflict of interest here. Is Northern Ireland a part of Great Britain, or Ireland?"

"The fact that Ireland, England, and Northern Ireland are separate entities might shed some light into that question..."

"... Sorry for snapping, Yakazowi. I'm a bit stressed out."

"We all are, Milan."

"Can we focus?"

"Shut up, Miller. "

"Jeez, sorry. I have to agree with Yakazowi, here. I see no reason not to pass them."

"You're right. I'm... Ugh. I don't know. I'm going to get some sleep."

" 'Kay, do that..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Romano stared at the back of Antonio's head. He had been sitting motionless like that for nearly twenty minutes, and it was freaking him out. "España," he called quietly. Antonio twitched. Romano plowed on, relieved that at least Antonio could hear him and was kind of acknowledging him.

"Toni, could you do me a favor?" He asked. Antonio shifted his body to face Romano. "Could you smile for me?" Romano asked. Spain blinked. "No, idiota, that's blinking. Smiling is with your mouth."

Spain couldn't help himself; his mouth twitched. So did Romano's. "Por favor?" He asked, switching to Spanish. Spain lost it then. He couldn't help grinning broadly when Romano used his language. "Oh mi amor! I'm sorry. I was just thinking." Romano scoffed. "Then stop it, Tonio. It scared me when you think." Spain snickered.

"España, you're worrying me. Really. You've been mopey and angry ever since I came back. When will you be your normal stupidly happy self again?" Romano snapped at him.

"When I find out the truth," Spain said simply. "What happened while you were gone? It's eating away at me, Romano, driving me crazy." Romano huffed. "Does it matter? I'm fine, damn it! I'm here, I'm with you! If they haven't come back for me yet, then they won't!" He stopped talking when Spain's eyes cut to him. "It matters to me." Romano shook his head in frustration.

"Por favore, España. Drop it. It won't happen again." Spain shook his head. "I can't, Romano. I can't just forget what happened." Romano sighed. "Fine. I'm going to bed."  
Spain watched him go with a small pang.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, I keep taking forever! The chapters hopefully maybe possibly be coming for frequently now. I hope. *cough***

**Also, I'm aware that the Spain and Romano scenes are a bit repetitive, but there is a point to them. :3 AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN writing about Scotland and Milan. I might do other fics like that scene. idk. I had this idea for a story with France, but I'm saying nil about it. **

**Look forward to Sweden!**

**Love you guys! **

**Roxy**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I like this concept, but still iffy on a few aspects of this that I simply cannot identify. Enjoy it anyway!**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**

Sweden's Session

"Berwald? Berwald, wake up. Be careful, you'll nick your face..." Finland gently cupped Sweden's face and lifted it off the table, away from the sharp- edged tools. Sweden blinked awake and reflexively stretched out an arm for his glasses. "Tino, what happened?" Tino interpreted Sweden's speech. "You fell asleep working on the rocking chair."

Tino pressed Berwald's glasses into his hand. "Thanks," he mumbled. Tino smiled up at him. "Your testing starts in an hour," Tino told him. Sweden nodded and gave his "wife" a hug before scaling the stairs to his room. He donned clean clothes that didn't smell of sawdust.

Tino was scrubbing some dishes in the sink from the dinner before when Berwald finished putting on his clothes. When he saw Tino's back was to him, he walked up and put his arms around the smaller man and gently kissed the top of his head. "I'll be home soon," he murmured. Tino waved good- bye as Berwald walked out the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia couldn't sleep. He felt like his eyelids refused to get heavy just to spite him.

He should be exhausted. Really, he should. He'd run away from his little brother, navigated a city that he'd never been to before, spent every waking moment with the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up, positive he was being watched, and after hours of searching found a hotel clerk that spoke mediocre German.

But at the end of the day (middle of the night, actually), all he could do was sit at the small kitchen table of the hotel room in near total- darkness and watch Hungary sleep in one of the twin beds just feet away.

A shaft of moonlight ghosted in between the blinds of the window and delicately illuminated her face. It was peaceful in sleep, all tension draining away. He wished she would look like that when she was awake, the way she did centuries ago.

Centuries ago, they were children. When all there was to worry about was war and death and conquerors. Not like now. Now there's rules and protocols and regulations. There are punishments for those who break these rules. Fines, embargoes, social media making a mockery of you. Now the only way to hurt someone without fear of repercussions is to strike personally. Betrayal. Hurting them in a way that no band- aid, cast, or new tourist attraction would fix.

He realizes with a gulp that he would mind very much if anyone hurt Hungary that way. Still. After all this time, he knows that if Hungary appeared on his doorstep crying her eyes out, that the probability of flying into a homicidal rage was very high. Not that she'd ever go to anyone if she was hurt. No, she'd go after the bastard herself and never speak of it again. And yet-

Stop.

He shakes his head. He accepted decades ago that convenience and necessity would be the only reasons why she would want him with her. And the only one she loved was back at his home, coaxing music out of his piano. He wondered if she was still suffering under the delusion that Austria played for anyone other than her and himself.

He snaps back to the present, unable to keep up that running dialogue in his mind. His eyes sweep the room.

Two twin beds, a TV, a kitchen, a master bathroom, a dresser, and the door to the hotel's hallway. Two suitcases, a sleeping woman, and an albino with a loaded gun. How long will they stay there? How long can they share the space? He is positive that they will drive each other absolutely crazy.

"Why am I still awake?" He wondered to himself. It could be put down to evolution; the brain goes on alert in unfamiliar places to watch for predators. Or you could be a romantic fangirl and say that he unconsciously stayed awake to protect a love that he thinks may never return his feelings.

Whether you believe in Darwinism or true love, the fact remains that Gilbert was still awake when the sunrise threw pink and gold rays over the water by the city. The rosy- fingered dawn stretched her fingers over Hungary's sleeping face and turned her hair into a glittering brown. To Gilbert, she had never looked more beautiful.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sweden felt as though his was slipping down a slick, steep, icy slope down into his horrible dream.

He was home. Specifically, he was kneeling in his dining room across from a china cabinet with a weeping nation in front of him.

Finland was clutching to his shirt and sobbing. "Berwald, why can't I believe you?" he asked between sharp hiccups. Berwald gently gripped Tino's forearms and helped the two of them stand. Instinctively, Berwald moved to wrap his arms around Tino. Tino felt his movement and shrieked, for whatever reason, and jerked away, even pushing him slightly with his forearms. Berwald narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Say it. Just say it, Sweden! Please, just tell me you love me!" Tino cried, furiously wiping his sleeve over his eyes to dispel tears that blurred his vision. Berwald blinked. "I love you," he said. Finland stared at him, and Sweden matched his gaze. "I love you," he repeated himself. Finland just shook his head mutely. Berwald was becoming truly bewildered. Why was Tino suddenly not believing him?

It was then that he caught his expression in the reflection of the china cabinet. How stoic he looked! How cold. How uncaring. This must be why his wife was so distrustful of him. He tried to smile weakly at Finland.

His lips would not move from their thin line. His brain commanded them to frown, to grin, to even show teeth. They did not. All the while, Finland stood there, quaking, growing more distressed by the minute. What about that stupid saying, eyes are the windows to the soul?

Nothing he tried worked. His face was frozen in that expression of apathy and near- anger. "I see how you feel about me, Sweden. I'll be going now. I wish you had told me sooner the depth of your indifference towards me," Tino tried to keep his voice steady and dignified, but in the end managed to crush Sweden's heart.

"Don't leave," Sweden requested. His voice! It was so empty! Finland's chin trembled. "I'm going to Norway's house, Sweden. Don't worry about-" Berwald grabbed Tino's wrist as he tried to edge past him and crushed his lips to his. Finland squeaked in protest, but after exactly one second he caved. It was Berwald that had to break away for air. He slid his hand under Finland's chin and held it gently.

"I don't always show it, but I do love you," he rumbled softly, but sternly. Finland looked up at him with big eyes and nodded imperceptibly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. The two kissed again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scotland poked another cursed cigarette between his lips and lit it with a gloved hand. He took a long drag of it with half- lidded eyes. He had a problem with the good psychiatrist's offer. If he accepted, he'd be keeping his brothers out of harm's way- but betraying the rest of the world by not offering the same protection.

Damn it. Arthur's "noble gentleman" habits seem to have rubbed off on him.

He exhaled and watched the poisonous gas furl out from his nose and lips. Must to be fun to be smoke, he thought idly. All smoke has to do is be consumed and discarded before making its own way through the air. Unlike nations, and how people NEED them. He snorted at that thought. At least he wasn't America. Everyone except a few close friends hate him, until they need him. "It's lonely at the top," he muttered before pulling another long drag out of his cancer stick.

Smoke didn't have to make decisions.

Smoke went wherever it damn well pleased.

Ah, bollocks.

He pulled out his cell phone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"So what exactly was that?"

"I think it was Sweden being afraid that he couldn't show people close to him how he felt about them."

"So in response he goes to direct communication. Very good."

"Yes. I vote to pass him."

"So do I."

"And me."

"So, Milan. Isn't Scotland supposed to give you his answer today?"

"Yes, actually. I'm expecting his call shortly."

"Well, good luck. If he doesn't go through with it, I'll tell the boss that it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks, Miller."

*phone rings*

"That's you, Milan."

"Yes, thank you, Yakazowi. Hello? Hello, Allistor. Yes, it's me. You want to meet where? Okay, sure. I'll meet you there. One hour. Ok. I look forward to it. Good- bye."

"And you wanted Fujiko to do this assignment."

"I still do, Miller!"

"Whatever. Go meet your date."

"Shut up, it's not a date..."

* * *

**A/N: Oooh, cliffhanger much? I'm so mean. That long wait, just for a cliffhanger and a short- ass chapter. I'm such a bitch. But you love me, right? :D The next chapter will be longer and more fun. **

**Working tirelessly on future chapters. However, if you guys would like to give me hints as to what you would like to see from the rest of the Baltics, that would be swell! And no breast cancer, I already tried writing that and my beta thought it was a new crack!fic. Until next time!**

**Love ya!**

**Roxy**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, my computer died! :'( And gintama200, calm down. Romania will be included. Trust me, I'm an author. Wait, bad example... On that note, enjoy this chapter! I'm opening up with the hallucination this time.**

Fear of a Nation  
Hong Kong's Session

Hong Kong knew he was in trouble in the drug- induced state when he noticed that his body was moving independently of his mind. He lifted his head, which felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. One of his arms was slung over China's shoulders, the other arm over England's.

England stepped over a fallen bamboo tree. They were walking through a forest. "Let me down, I can walk," he tried to say. Yao looked at him sideways as they continued to walk. He had a smudge of dirt under his eye. "Seriously, you two, let me down. I can manage..." England cut him off, which was unlike him. "No, you can't. Now let us take care of you."

Unease and anger stirred in Hong Kong. "Yes, I can." He tried to yank his arms from the other men's grip, but they held fast and glared at him. "Will you please look at yourself?" Yao snapped at him. Hong Kong looked down and almost passed out.

His legs were a mess. Scraped, bleeding, with a shirt- his own, he noticed his bare chest- tied around one knee. It was soaking through with his blood. What made him truly nauseous was the bone poking out of the skin of his knee. His head snapped up, away from the sickening sight.

"It's okay, Hong Kong. We'll take care of you," England promised. Hong Kong shook his head. "No, I'm fine, I can get along on my own. Let me go." Yao and Arthur ignored him and kept half- dragging, half- carrying him through the bamboo. "Let go!" Yao and Arthur exchanged an exasperated look before letting his arms slide from their shoulders. With a sharp cry of pain, he gripped their shoulders again before he screwed up his legs even worse.

His face burned with shame at his dependence on the two other nations.

They hobbled through the forest until they came across a Chinese- style shack. Inside they found a bed and lay him down on it. From then on, Hong Kong flat out refused to let them near him, smacking them and head- butting them until they slunk away while he took care of himself. When his legs were healed enough for him to walk, he slipped out of the shack and back into reality.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Milan smiled at Allistor across the small patio table. He didn't smile back. "Allistor, have you decided?" She was pretty anxious, sweaty palms and all that. Secretly, she hoped he'd accept.

Scotland, instead of replying, pulled out a thin, small cigarette and lit it, slowly and deliberately. He kept eye contact with her, expressionless. She maintained eye contact with him as he almost casually slid the paper tube between his lips. Milan waited, already not liking this. To cover up her unease, she lifted the glass of ice water by her empty plate and took a sip Allistor inhaled slowly. Milan could only watch and analyze. Was he showing that he was at ease? In control? Probably. There's nothing, except intercourse, that men like more than showing that they are comfortable and in control in their environment.

Scotland took out the cigarette, parted his thin lips and let the smoke roll out of his mouth and nose. Milan decided she was done waiting.

"Allistor?" She pressed. He coolly stared back and moved to put the cigarette back in his mouth and lifted an eyebrow at her. Was he stalling? Was this an ambush? Or was this just a psychological attack? Most likely the last one. If this was an attack, she'd be dead. Or captured.

"Doctor Milan." She jumped at the sound of her name, having fully expected the red- haired man to remain silent. "I thought long and hard about your offer," he said mildly. He put the damn cigarette back in his mouth and inhaled. He blew the translucent gas back out into the air and watched it swirl and disappear for a moment. Milan watched rather helplessly.

"Don't get me wrong, hen. It's a sweet offer, a nice deal. But I'm going to have to decline."

Milan blinked. "You'd let your brothers fend for themselves," she said blankly. "You'd decline the only guarantee you'd get of their safety." Allistor tapped the excess ash off the cigarette onto the tablecloth and gave her an amused look through his eyelashes. "My brothers are more than capable of fending for themselves, and besides, I have no doubt that they passed your little test." Inhale, exhale. "I'm not a prostitute, Doctor Milan. I don't trade my body for favors."

She flushed. "I see. This is how those relationships of yours work, then?" She immediately wished she could call those words back. Scotland's eyes flashed murderously at her. "Ya listen here," he growled at her. His eyes were bright with rage, and Milan was almost quaking in her seat. "Be calm," she told herself. "Get it together."  
"I love my brothers. I'd do whatever it takes to protect them. But it's unnecessary. My brothers passed your test, and Arthur would never forgive me if I didn't extend his protection to his friends. Ya got me?"

Milan arranged her features into a stony expression and nodded. "What makes you so sure they passed, Mr. Scotland?" She whispered. Scotland just snorted and took another drag of his cigarette. "We're Kirklands, Doctor. It takes more than fancy machines and drugs to get the best of us."

Milan abruptly stood and walked off the patio. Scotland watched her go with a flicker of regret. He knew what this meant.

He'd be stuck with the bill.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm here, sir."

"Dusana. I was beginning to think you had ignored my call. Am I irritating you too badly?"

"Was there something you needed, sir? There is still evaluation to e done on Hong Kong-"

"Doctors Yakazowi and Miller are capable of assessing him without your assistance, despite their differences. And yes, there is something I need from you. Could you please pick up the 2053 Study of Our Nations and read to me, out loud, paragraph six of page 236?"

*papers rustle*  
"The mental capacity and ability of a nation to deal with extreme emotions is immensely greater than that of a human; their existence is war, broken agreements, natural disaster, and other devastations. Life has demanded that they develop coping mechanisms, or turn to risky behaviors such as self harm, acting in contradiction of the interests of the people, or even suicide-"

"Stop."

*folder closes*

"Dusana, what you have just read is our entire foundation. This is why we are here. Why we cannot falter in our efforts."

"To what end, sir? I still don't understand why."

"You don't need to understand. You need to do as I ask of you."

"Sir, I'm not comfortable with our mission. I can't pretend I am anymore."

"You, yourself, have declared a few of them inadequate, Dusana! Your own assessments."

"By your criteria."

"I would like you to send in Captain Mathison, Dusana."

"Yes sir."

*door opens and closes*

"Kyle. I hope our talk will be more productive than my last one."

"I hope so too, sir."

"Our nation friends are too close to each other for comfort. We need to isolate them."

"Sir? Are you suggesting-"

"Yes. Give Fujiko this assignment, tell her to start with the brothers."

"The brothers? Which ones, sir?"

"Surprise me."

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Germany jerked awake with a plummeting feeling in his gut. He whipped his head beside him to make sure Italy was still in the bed with him- which he was. He froze, listening, all senses on high alert. He could have sworn he felt... He looked down at Feliciano, who was stirring awake. "Ve... Doitsu? What's going on?" Germany quickly shushed him and listened. He didn't have to listen long.

With a tremendous crack, their front door flew off it's hinges. Germany stuffed Italy under the covers and put a pillow over his head to hide him. He slid his gun from under his pillow and crept up to the bedroom door to listen.

"LUDWIG BEILSCHIMDT!" A powerful- sounding voice bellowed. Italy squeaked under the comforter. Germany wavered for a moment between calling back or just outright shooting them. "I am here," he called back suspiciously. "My name is Captain Kyle Mathison. Come out now, my men will not fire. I have ordered them not to."

"You have an interesting way of ringing the doorbell," Ludwig said instead. "We couldn't exactly call ahead," Mathison returned. "Now come out!"

Ludwig could tell that Feliciano was violently shaking his head under the pillow. "Stay here, Feliciano," he hissed. "And be quiet." He slowly opened the door and stepped out, once he was quite sure that bullets wouldn't start flying.

There he was. Captain Mathison. He had large, dark brown eyes, the standard military buzz cut, and a nose that Ludwig was fairly sure had been broken at least twice in his lifetime. He was lean, yet bulky in his chest and arms. His lips were full and set in a small smile. He might have been handsome, if he didn't have such dark circles around his eyes, like a heroin addict, and the complexion of a tanned person who hadn't seen the sun in several months.

The captain nodded at him in greeting and waved down his men, two other heavily armored and armed guys. Ludwig was a bit puzzled by this captain. He wore no armor, unless there was a vest under his shirt, and the only weapon in sight was safely tucked in its holster.

"Your brother. Where is he?" Ludwig bit the inside of his cheek and matched the captain's hard stare. "I think it would be better for you to tell me who the hell you are and why you saw fit to break down my door." Mathison lifted a dark eyebrow. "I am a former Captain in the United States Armed Forces and now I am... Affiliated with the team of scientists running the testing on the nations. As to breaking down your door, well, as I've already said; I couldn't exactly ring the doorbell." He waited patiently while Germany absorbed this. "Now, about your brother, Gilbert, right?"

"What about him?" Germany snapped. "He is required back at the scientist's offices for additional testing, along with the personification of the nation Hungary. Have you seen your brother, Mr. Germany?" Germany shook his head. "Not recently. Last I saw him was a few days ago. He was leaving to pick up Hungary from her testing." Germany couldn't help but wonder how long he could play dumb before this captain tripped him up.

"Give the good scientists a call if you see him, okay?" Mathison said. Germany was taken aback by his readiness to believe him, but nodded. "I'll see if I can call my bruder." He promised. Mathison, with a beckoning flick of his wrist, climbed over the busted front door and departed.

Germany waited until the three men had driven away before picking up the house phone and calling Gilbert. "West?" Came Prussia's voice over the phone. "Thank Gott. Gilbert, listen: some guys came over a few minutes ago, looking for you and Hungary. Be careful, bruder. Promise me." There was a crackle of static, covering Prussia's response. "Was?"

"I said I will, bruder. I promise. I have to go now, West. See you soon." Ludwig bit his lip. "Auf Wiedersehen, bruder." Click.

About a mile away, a computer beeped, signaling a completed trace. Captain Mathison's lips pulled up in an excited smirk. "Annapolis, Maryland. Go."  
"Yes, sir."

**A/N: Roxy! What's with all the cliffhangers?! *shrugs* I never know how else to end a chapter, unless it's like a kissing scene or whatever. Anyway, hope you enjoyed that, and hope you will stick around for Australia's chapter, which is next! For once, I will know what I am doing and it should be Prussia- level awesome if I do it correctly. Ciao!**

**Roxy**  
**P.S: Happy Canada Day!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: WARNING: THIS IS GOREY. IF YOU HAVE A DELICATE STOMACH, PLEASE SKIP TO THE SECOND PAGE BREAK. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. So, I've been entertaining this notion since the very beginning of this fic, so I pretty much had this whole chapter planned out from the beginning. Ain't I a stinker? :3 Enjoy!**

**DID I MENTION THIS WAS GOREY? NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, MMKAY?**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
**Australia's Session**

"Wy? Where's my hat? Wait, never mind- HEY KOALA WILL YOU STOP EATING THE HOUSEPLANTS ALREADY?!" Jett dashed from one corner of his living room to the other like a tornado on acid. With one boot on and one bare foot and a shirt with buttons in the wrong holes, Jett was decidedly not ready for his testing. Wy observed this all with barely- contained amusement. "Jett."

"WALLABY! Have you been fed? There's my hat! Do you think I'll need my rope? I'm not sure. KOALA WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THE HOUSEPLANTS? Wy! Have you had breakfast? Oh damn-" Wy watched her big- brother- figure zip around the house for about five minutes before pointedly coughing and looking at her watch.

Somehow he managed to get to the session on time. It probably had something to do with his philosophy that traffic laws are more like suggestions than actual rules.

"'Ello, mates! How's this being done?" He asked brightly. The scientists stared at him with varying degrees of shock and amusement. "Um... Well, sir, the python will have to remain in separate quarters until the test is done," Miller finally said. "Python?" Jett looked down at himself. Yep. He managed to somehow fail to notice the heavy, gently squeezing teenage python wrapped around his waist.

"Ah- yep. He'll be okay anywhere, he's really a harmless fellow, I swear. He just likes hugs." He assured them. Milan was looking really pale. "I bet he does," she said dryly. "Yakazowi, would you mind calling maintenance to put the... Python in our little adjacent room?" She cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from the snake. "Please sit down here, and we'll begin."

Jett let the snake slither off his arm and drop to the ground. He climbed up on the orthodontist- like chair and immediately was subject to the dermal anesthetic. He winked at them and slurred, "This'll be an adventure..."

His eyes shut, and Miller chuckled. "What's so funny?" Yakazowi asked. Miller looked over at Milan, who was busying herself with the tablets and connections. "Are you afraid of snakes, Doctor Milan?" He asked with laughing dancing at the edge of his tone. Her eyes cut to him, glaring a bit. "It's perfectly logical to be apprehensive of something that could easily kill you if it wanted to," she sniffed. Miller tried to kill the smile. "I had a pet snake when I was a kid, a pretty Hognose named Luisa. She was really pretty, you know, as far as snakes go. Anyway, one day she got out of her tank and I never saw her again."

Milan blinked. "Was there a purpose in telling me that?" She asked. He shrugged. "Just making conversation until he- there we go!" The scientists looked to the big screen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Australia's back was freezing cold and pressed to a a metal slab, like an operating table. He lifted his head to look around (his pants were on, much to his relief, but besides that he was bare). "Let's get up," he thought to himself.

Nope. His arms and legs were strapped down. "Typical," he thought with annoyance. It was dark in the room, except for a naked bulb and a chain that swung slightly from side to side.

"Australia."

He jumped- well, he would've if he was physically able to. "What do you want?" He asked tersely. "Australia's been it's own country and continent for too long. We're cutting you down a few sizes." Out of the dark, a blade flashed down on his shoulder, stopping at his bone. He let out a feral scream. Pain shot through the very marrow of his bones, all the way from his skull to his toes. Blood gushed out and dribbled down to the floor.

And then the unseen stranger began to saw at him, apparently determined to cut off the limb. Australia saw red as the blood vessels in his eyes popped while he screamed. This was unbearable. He writhed, but that threw off his assailant's aim and caused more pain. He couldn't move, but he couldn't NOT move- unbearable. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't vomit from the amount of blood pouring from his body.

Blood squirted onto his tongue in his mouth, either from grinding his teeth too hard or biting his lips. He wasn't sure. He didn't care.

The grinding, sawing motion stopped, and the pain ebbed away infinitesimally. He gasped and his eyes flew open. Tears blurred his vision and streamed out of him. He was breathing in huge, deep heaves that did nothing besides shove too much oxygen to his brain and make him feel faint.

His shoulder began to feel cold. And heavy. And oddly sticky. He wanted to vomit so badly. He shut his eyes again. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real," he chanted this to himself over and over. Of course, he had no way of knowing if it was real or not, it was the only reality that he knew at the time. As he chanted, he steadily began to feel light as a feather and freezing cold air pushed its way into his lungs.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Miller, you're looking pale."

"Mmm."

"Are you afraid of blood, Miller?!"

"It's not my favorite thing."

"You worked at John's Hopkins!"

"That work experience didn't help my aversion to the stuff, trust me. What do you think, Milan, is disassociation a good way to deal with that?"

"Under those circumstances, I believe so, yes."

"Good. We can pass him AND send him a cookie bouquet."

"He deserves it. *sniggers* Remember when Yakazowi puked?"

"I nearly puked too! Do you have an iron stomach or something?"

"Eh."

"So, he's passed?"

"For sure."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia was a bit uneasy since his little brother's phone call. To say the least. "I think we should move to another location soon," he suddenly announced. Elizaveta looked back at him. "Why? Because Ludwig called?" Gilbert nodded. "Gil, I think we'll be fine. After all, he doesn't know where we are, so how could-"

She was silenced by Gilbert, who held up his hand suddenly. She gave him a perplexed look- and then heard what he did. An engine was running in the alley under their window. Gilbert cautiously stepped over and moved the curtain, peeking outside.

The SUV wasn't under their window after all; rather it was standing in front of the front entrance of the lobby. Gilbert cursed, because there was a man standing by the van that he recognized: one of them men that shot at him and Hungary. He seemed to be running the show here, talking on a radio and directing his people to positions.

"Gilbert?" He tore away from the window, muttering in German. "We've got to go, now. They're here." Her eyes widened and she made a move to look out the window- an he flung an arm out to stop her. "Stay away from the windows." He hissed. He stepped around her and bolted the doors and looked out the peephole, and his eye widened. "Shit, they're here!" He turned on his heel and ran past a bewildered Elizaveta, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along. The door cracked open and three fist- sized objects were thrown inside: Flash- bang grenades.

Gilbert threw open the window he had just ordered Hungary to stay away from. He kicked the screen away and pushed her towards the window. She got the idea immediately. She was quick, a trait that Gilbert liked about her. She swung her leg over the sill and dropped down, but held on the the concrete edge with her fingers. Gilbert joined her.

"Shh," he said. "They will see in eventually," she growled at him under the strain of holding herself up. Gilbert looked down and grinned. "Count of three, let go," he whispered. She looked at him like he was nuts (he was used to that) and looked down. Then she looked back up and grinned at him.

CRACK

Elizaveta howled and her fingers released the concrete sill. A helmeted, armored man grinned down at them. With a strangled gasp, Prussia lunged for her with one hand and grabbed her wrist. "Too soon!" He thought.

Elizaveta dangled in midair, holding back whimpers. Her hand felt broken. Prussia looked down again, and back up at the asshole. He raised the butt of the gun to bring down on Gilbert's fingers- and never for the chance.

Gilbert let go of the ledge, and he and Hungary tumbled through the air. He prayed he hadn't miscalculated. Thank all the gods in the world that he and Hungary landed safely in the huge laundry cart that a little old maid was struggling to push. She started yelling at them in Spanish, and they hopped out and sprinted away, gasping. "Holy shit that was awesome." Gilbert laughed breathlessly. Elizaveta glared. "Maybe for you, but my hand..." Gilbert's eyebrows pushed together.

"Let me find a car and I'll take a look," he promised.

A few hours later:

"It feels like a couple of hairline fractures, nothing too serious," he tried to say lightly. Hungary sighed in relief. "Just don't push it, okay?" She giggled at him. "I'll be fine, Gilbert! Where to now?" she asked.

There was the problem. They couldn't stay on the roof of the Holiday Inn forever. "We could try Baltimore," he suggested. "Sounds great! Lets do it," she said eagerly. "Uh- okay." He wondered if the sudden giddiness was a head injury he had missed or her relief that they had gotten away.

Then, they simply watched the sun set over Annapolis.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ludwig was not the happiest German in the world when he awoke to knocking for the third time that month. When he got to the door, it was that captain again. He had on what Gilbert would have called the "no more bullshit" face.

"Mr. Germany, we need to talk about your brother," he said flatly. Germany resisted the urge to laugh; he had heard that before, in a similar tone. "Please come in, we can talk in my office," Germany invited him.

In the office, Germany sipped steaming hot coffee while Captain Mathison explained the deep shit Gilbert had gotten himself into. Heavily biased, of course. "I have a deal for you," he said.

For the first time since the tests had begun, Ludwig was given the facts, as they were, and told clearly and bluntly what he needed to do to keep his brother safe. "Very well, Captain. I accept your terms." He signed the notarized documents that the captain had brought with him. The captain smiled at him and left.

He dialed his brother. "It's safe to come home now," he said. "They won't be looking for you or Hungary anymore."

* * *

**A/N: So basicallyI thought that since Australia has always been the only country and also an entire continent, being split into other countries might freak him out a bit. Idk. Could be wrong, but it was interesting to write. What's the deal with Germany, you ask? You won't know until later, unfortunately. Stick around, because Taiwan is next! :3 Let me know how I'm doing, please! Until next time!**

**Roxy**

**P.S: Gintama200, I was always going to include Romania. Don't worry, I'll make his chapter awesome just for you.**

* * *

**Why, hello little ones! This is Liana speaking (I got the upload right this time Roxy!) :3**

**I have received some complaints from Roxy (I have to listen to them. I live with her.) So I would like to add something just so we're all clear.**

**Gintama200. Dude, I mean this with the highest respect for your feelings but OH MY GOD SHUT UP ALL READY. I don't mean to be rude AT ALL! REALLY I DON'T! But if you really love Romania so much, why do you write your own fanfiction instead of pestering Roxy constantly? And also, it's a free country. Both of us LOVE USUK a lot. If you don't like it, please, please, PLEASE don't ask us to change our interests. That's like telling a cat you don't like the sound of meowing so it should just start barking instead. We can't change what we love. It's not possible. And, yes, Romania is coming. Roxy doesn't know much about the Hetalia characters (Weirdly enough) so I'm like her resource center and even ****I**** don't know much about him. So Roxy has to research a character if either of know nothing about it. Researching takes awhile. Especially if we want to be 100% accurate. So please, calm down. We love everyone for even clicking on this fanfiction, including you, so thank you very much for reading. Your comments are taken into consideration always but a ship change request just urks us.**

**Thank you all for reading!**

**Liana ;3**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Aw you guys are the best! Thanks for all the support- and happy (late) birthday, America and France!**  
**This shit gets dark. Just saying.**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
**Taiwan's Session**

America and Russia were in the middle of an intense staring contest when France and England burst through the door of the conference room. "Amerique! Russia! Gilbert and Hungary are coming back- Hey cut that out! We don't have time!" England, for once agreeing with France, impatiently snapped his fingers in front of the two nations' faces. They both blinked and America groaned. "He was totally gonna blink that time!" He complained. Russia shook his head with a pleasant smile. "I do not think so, America. You-"

England cut him off before they would all become distracted. "It doesn't matter! Listen! The scientists' goons were after Hungary and Prussia, but they stopped! Italy said Germany made some kind of deal." America stopped glaring at Russia to give England a startled look. "They negotiate?" Russia asked. France shrugged. "Wait, why were they going after Hungary and Prussia?" Asked a very confused America.

Five minutes and countless interruptions later, the story was relayed to America and Russia. America stood up angrily. "No way! They attacked our friends?! I won't stand for-" England put his hand on America's shoulder. "There's no point, America. They're safe now, and we don't want to give them reason to attack again." America opened his mouth to vehemently protest before reluctantly closing it. The stony look on his face, however, would not be suppressed so easily.

Someone kicked open the door.

Arthur's considerable eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he recognized the door- kicker: his brother. The Scot was scowling and pinching the cigarette between his lips with his teeth. "And who told these mainlanders that they could come to my hotel?" He snarled at the room. "Mainlan- oh." Prussia and Hungary stalked in after Scotland, looking equally dissatisfied.

"It was just until West could pick us up, I don't see what you're so pissy about," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. One of Scotland's bright green eyes twitched and glittered- and not in a remotely happy or comical way. "You two-" he barked at them with an accusing finger pointing- "Have got targets on your backs! And I don't need that around me, not now, not ever." Hungary ground out, "They aren't coming after us anymore, Scotland." Allistor snorted derisively. "No? These people are devious, Miss Frying Pan. How do you know they won't go back on their word?" Scotland glared at them all, and his gaze came to America, France, and England, all staring at him.

"And you three! Do you want to get marked? Don't ya know they're watching you all? They don't like relationships between nations!" America's eyes popped wide open. "Relationships?!" He sputtered. "What the hell are you talking about?" Scotland snarled at him in frustration. "Keep up, stupid American! Bloody scientists don't want the nations to have relationships, and they've been watching you and Frog Face here with my brother!"

Arthur finally found his ability to speak. "Allistor, what the bloody hell are you going on about? When did Prussia and Hungary come back, and where is Germany?" His face was becoming a more alarming shade of red with each passing moment. "And what's with all these ridiculous insinuations about relationships between Cheesy Monkey, America and I?" France muttered, "Why does America get called by his name?"

Scotland briefly floundered; in his anger, he had given away more than he had wanted to. It was never his intention to tell his brothers about Milan's offer. He was pretty certain that they wouldn't see his point of view on the subject. "I overheard them talking," he said deftly, but vaguely. "Right before the testing, they were talking about the criteria for passing." Arthur nearly exploded. "And you didn't think that we would like to know those particular details?!"

Bullocks.

"You, Dylan, and Francey- Pants had already taken the test, and Sean and Connor weren't taking my calls. What was I supposed to have done?"Scotland said with a shrug. He took a quick inhale of the cigarette to calm his sudden anxiety. "I have a name," France reminded them. "Shut up, Frog," Allistor and Arthur both said in nearly perfect unison.

"Is that all you heard?" Russia butted in before France could throw a proper hissy fit. Allistor nodded gratefully. "Well, that's interesting and everything, but... What the hell were you saying earlier about a relationship between France, Iggy and I?" America asked quickly. Scotland bit the inside of his cheek before replying. "They seem to think that Arthur and Francis had a relationship at some point, and they don't like that. And they're under the impression that you two-" he nodded at America and England- "have something going on. But that's ridiculous, obviously, seeing as you and France never dated or anything."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Scotland realized that perhaps something HAD happened between his little brother and the flamboyant Frenchman. The first clue was Arthur looking at his shoes, reaching up to rub his neck agitatedly, and turning a light shade of pink. The second clue was France's poker- face. Scotland looked between the two for a moment or so before groaning, "You did, didn't you? Arthur, what the bloody hell were you thinking?" And as expected, England's embarrassment quickly turned to anger. The pink on his cheeks became red. "I was thinking that I was lonely and he was offering himself on a silver platter, so why the hell not?! Besides, it isn't as if there was any real emotional attachment at the time! It was just sex! Right, France?"

Arthur turned to Francis for some backup- and found himself shouting at empty air. The door to the conference room was hanging ajar, and a draft that smelled faintly of roses wafted in.

"France?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Taiwan's heavy breathing was loud as thunder in the total quiet of the field of dead grass. One particularly loud hiccup, and she was certain that whatever was chasing her would find her. If something was chasing her. She still wasn't sure. She finally stumbled to a stop. Her whole back and chest heaved with her lungs, and she rested her palms on her knees for support. Her legs felt like lead, heavy and dense, and her feet vaguely reminded her of the time she had stepped on a nail, except all over the soles of her feet.

Feet padded quietly behind her. She gulped back a sob. The... Thing that had been following her was here.

Every instinct screamed at her to run, just run, don't look back. Don't turn around. Run. But her feet were in pain, her legs were numb, and her mind burned with curiosity. Who, or what? She needed to know, pure and simple. So she ignored her instinct and looked. And coughed back a sob.

What she saw made no sense.

Two panels, side by side, about eight meters apart. A screen above each one, flashing the sign: "target locked". One was labeled, "China," the other was labeled, "Japan".

Nukes.

She shrieked and rushed toward the panels, ripping the hem of her kimono on the way. It was all happening so clearly in her mind's eye- Kiku, or Yao, doubled over, clutching their hearts. Screeching in pain until a vein in their neck pops. Falling, shivering, but not dying. Just agonizing, prolonged pain.

Which panel was she running to?

She would have to choose.

Six seconds.

Five seconds.

Four.

Japan's nuke was disarmed, thanks to Mei's rapid location of the abort switch.

Three seconds and six meters.

Two seconds and four meters.

One.

Cherry blossoms bathed her face, raining down from the heavens. Soft, silky petals thy caressed her skin.

And left red streaks behind that rapidly dried.

The blood from the most populous country in the world was enough to water the dead grass and bring it back to green life.

It was also enough to drown Taiwan, plug up her nostrils, congeal in her throat, and choke her until her eyes rolled back.

Payment for her sin, much like Canada's.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"She and Canada aren't so different. They both seem to believe in paying for their mistakes."

"Right. This sequence had more of a nightmarish quality to it than the others, though."

"Definitely."

"I vote that she stays."

"Seconded."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

France absently twirled the rose around in his palm, paying no heed to the twinges of pain that appeared as the thorns cut his flesh. "Seychelles, ma chèrie, why is Angleterre so mean to me?" He grumped.

She glanced at him. He looked so sad, it made her heart melt. "Maybe because you provoke him so much?" She tried an attempt to tease him and lighten the mood. France continued to sulk.

She watched him twirl the rose around for a few moments before laying a hand on his arm and taking the rose away. "Francis, please, you're making a mess of yourself." She pulled a pocket- first aid kit from nowhere and started to clean his cuts.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gilbert, Ludwig, and Elizaveta sat in the dining room with a thick air of tension hanging over them. Ludwig calmly ate his dinner (acutely aware of the other two, i might add), Gilbert toyed with the rim of his glass while glowering at Ludwig, and Elizaveta was about to crack from the pressure of it all. She was grateful that Ludwig suggested that Feliciano eat at Romano's house, because she had the feeling that this was going to get very ugly, very quickly if someone didn't say something.

Ludwig brought the last forkful of potato salad to his lips and swallowed it. He coolly asked, "Would anyone care for seconds?"

And Gilbert lost it.

"LISTEN HERE LITTLE BRUDER I RAISED YOU FROM WHEN YOU WERE TINY AND UNAWESOME SO DON'T FUCK AROUND WITH ME I KNOW WHEN SOMETHING'S UP AND SOMETHING IS DEFINITELY UP VERDAMMT! YOU OPEN YOUR GODDAMNED MOUTH AND TELL ME WHAT THE HELL YOU DID TO GET THOSE PEOPLE OFF OUR BACKS OR SO HELP ME I WILL KICK YOUR ARSCH BACK TO BERLIN WITHOUT A DROP OF BEER! WEST ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

Ludwig calmly wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I'll assume that means you don't want seconds," he muttered. Hungary quickly closed her mouth, since it had fallen open during Prussia's rant. "Ludwig," she tried appealing to the more level- headed of the German brothers, "I think you should tell us what we missed."

Ludwig spooned more potato salad onto his plate. "Very well," he shrugged.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Brother! Russia! It's my turn next!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

* * *

**A/N: Because I can't resist teasing you guys. Follow me on tumblr? #roxannanova**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: What's this? Ukraine has no official name?! Well, I'll just call her Katyusha Braginskaya.**

* * *

**Fear of a Nation**  
**Ukraine's Session**

Ukraine hung up the phone and immediately rushed to her little brother. "Brother! Russia! It's my turn next," she cried with fearful tears welling up in her eyes. Russia looked up from some paperwork. "Really? I was wondering when they would get to you and Belarus," he commented calmly.

Ukraine gulped down a hard sob and abruptly flinched, straightening up. "I forgot that my boss told me I can't speak to you, Russia! I'm sorry!" Russia stared at the paperwork intensely, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "Katyusha, we have this conversation a lot."

"Yes, it seems that you two do. Now, сястра, don't you have somewhere to be?" Belarus' cold, slightly threatening voice came from directly behind Ukraine. Katyusha shrieked in surprise and darted out of Russia's study, casting a fearful look behind her. Not for herself, but for Russia. Maybe she should-

The door slammed shut behind her. Too late. As she raced to her car, she could hear her little brother's voice; "Маленькая сестра, сколько раз я должен сказать? Я НЕ станет одним с вами! С tex!"

Ukraine pursed her lips tightly as she made her way to her car. "Belarus, please find a way to live without brother. You'll get yourself into trouble someday..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"You're... You're an idiot, Captain Mathison."

"Still so formal, Dusana. My name is Kyle."

"Whatever. Get off my bed and put on some clothing, Kyle."

"Heh."

*fabric rustles*

"Kyle, you've been with the boss longer than the rest of us. At what point did you realize the depth of his insanity?"

"Not much for pillow talk, are you? Anyways, I'm not sure I get your meaning, Dusana."

"Of course you do, you only speak so formally when you're trying to hide something. Hand me that blouse, the green one there- thanks."

"No problem. Well, what you call insanity, I call a different way of seeing the world. Maybe he sees more than you do, and that frightens you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. And what do you mean, a different way of seeing the world?"

"Well... Take how I found the countries Prussia and Hungary. Other men would have taken Prussia's little brother and beaten the truth out of him. I chose to distract Germany while one of my men put a trace software in his phone. Different ways of getting the same result. However, I believe my method was more reliable. And what makes you think Boss is insane? Do you think he'a incompetent?"

"I just mean that his beliefs about the world are unfounded, completely so. Every threat he has perceived comes from his own mind."

"Just because you don't see the signs, doesn't mean they aren't there."

"The whole world would have seen those signs."

"Not necessarily. They're wily, those nations. Clever, and manipulating, every one of them. Even Italy and America, foolish as they seem. They could have easily conspired against us and hidden it from us."

"You do realize that their relationships are reflected by the diplomatic relationships we hear about on the news, right? They couldn't have done what the boss thinks they have. It's not possible."

"Toss me my undershirt? And if I were you, I wouldn't let the others hear you talk like this. They might report you, and that wouldn't be good for your health."

"I guess you're right. Boss doesn't like me THAT much."

"Hey... If you're so damn convinced that he's wrong, why are you even here?"

"Not by choice. Why are you here?"

"Personal loyalty."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

*pauses* "He found me, and gave me a purpose when I thought my life was over. I don't regret what I did, only how I ended up after the fact. *scowls* Dishonored. Thrown out by the very country I gave up a future to protect... But the Boss found me, gave me a place to stay. And a mission. I owe my life to him."

"I see. You have old- fashioned ideals indeed. But you haven't answered my question, Kyle."

"Hmm? What question was that again?"

"At what point did you realize our boss' insanity?"

"Hmm... I suppose it was after his madness spread to me."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ukraine returned home from her testing in a daze. She wasn't sure if she quite remembered what had happened... She sat down, the scientists told her not to worry, and then she was driving home. Between the reassurances and the driving home was a short blank space in her mind. Oh well. Maybe it was a side- effect of the drugs.

She tromped quickly up the porch steps to Russia's house. She wasn't sure why she was there, but maybe she had forgotten something. She reached for the doorknob- and jerked her hand back with a sharp gasp. The knob was wet, and her hand was now red with someone's blood.

She realized in an instant what must have happened, and threw the door open to rush in. "Russia!" She called. Her voice quivered and her eyes darted around wildly. A strange smell wafted by her nostrils. A sweet, intoxicating, earthy smell. Roses? And a sharp, metallic smell. Old pennies, or blood. Blood was more likely. "Russia?"

Her brother was nowhere to be found. The only place she hadn't looked yet was his bedroom.

She tiptoed to the slightly- ajar door and gently pushed it open with her fingertips.

It was a beautiful nightmare.

White rose petals were scattered on the floor by the bed, and they matched the white silk bed linens. Red candles, some thick and tall, others just tea-lights, illuminated corners of the room and threw shadows on the walls and ceiling. A bottle of fine French wine and vodka rested side by side in a silver pail.

The bed was the most beautiful accessory in the room by far. And it was certainly not her brother's. it was king- sized, with a tall post on each corner. Connecting the posts were wood frames that made the bed a canopy- style. White, gauzy fabric created a curtain that currently draped between the posts of the bed, obstructing the view.

The nightmare began at the threshold.

The white rose petals were stained with a weird combination; a bright crimson of blood and a deep burgundy of the wine. The bottles of wine and vodka had been broken, and their contents spilled over the hardwood floor.

The graceful white gauze was torn in some places, wild, jagged tears. Ukraine tremblingly crossed the room and lifted the gauze, pushing it aside. Tears ran down her face at an unprecedented rate.

Her sister, her beautiful sister, in white, lacy lingerie, sprawled almost lazily over her brother's naked body. His throat was slit, hers, crushed. They were clearly both dead. Belarus' lips were crimson with a lip gloss of blood. Ukraine's eyes were drawn to Russia's chest, where Belarus had almost lovingly carved with her knife:

We are One

The white linen bedspread was unsalvageable.

Ukraine began to clean up her sister's mess-

She sat bolt upright in the sterile room, screaming a long, drawn- out scream. "Shhh. Shhh." Dr. Miller tried to soothe her. Ukraine jumped out of the hellish chair and fled. She needed to get home and be sure that her little brother was alright.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Picking up the pieces and moving on. Okay..."

"I know, not ideal."

"I'm not sure about this one."

"Take it up to the boss."

"Fine. Have you seen Milan?"

"She said that she'd be in tomorrow."

"Alright then."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prussia drummed his fingertips on the table with annoyance. Spain was with Romano, France was sulking somewhere over Eyebrow's insensitivity, Denmark had a hangover, and America was doing whatever America does a week before his birthday. Avoiding Eyebrows, possibly.

He was so bored. Even West was busy with Feliciano. There had to be someone he could talk to. Maybe... Elizaveta? Possibly. He dialed her number in his phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Hungary, it's the awesome me. I'm bored! Really bored! So I was wondering if you'd go drinking with me tonight." Elizaveta hummed, probably thinking about it. "Sure," she finally agreed. "Awesome!" Gilbert cheered. "I'll come pick you up and we'll go now!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Gilbert and Elizaveta sat across a short table from each other about an hour and a half later with a cheering crowd surrounding them. The bartender slammed another full shot glass in front of them both. Elizaveta grinned at Gilbert, who smirked back. They quickly downed the shot and thunked the glass down next to the other dozen glasses next to them. "Another!" They both slurred to the delight of the crowd.

"You can't win, Lizzy! I'm German!" Gilbert declared dizzily. Elizaveta snorted and giggled. "You're Prussian," she reminded him. Gilbert grinned goofily. "Oh yeah... Whatevah, Lizzay. I'm gonna win this contest!" Another pair of shots were placed before them. Elizaveta grinned at Gilbert before taking both glasses and spilling the contents down her throat. The crowd gaped at her before roaring their approval. Elizaveta clumsily wiped her mouth and gave Gilbert the sassiest look she could manage.

Gilbert gaped at her. His cheeks were flushed red with the drink and with a small degree of indignation. "Give me three!" He commanded someone.

You can see where this is going.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Mon ami, are you trying to tell me that you had never had a drinking contest with Hungary before last night?" France asked. His eyes positively sparkled with amusement. Gilbert groaned. "Not so loud, Francis. My head is killing me." Gilbert leaned over to the toilet to get sick again. "And to answer your question, ja."

"France suppressed a snicker. "And she won." To this, Gilbert's head snapped up and he glared at Francis with indignation. "I totally won! I'm awesome, remember! And it is NOT awesome to lose a drinking contest to a girl!" France just raised an eyebrow at him and smoothed back Gil's hair as he got sick in the toilet again. "When I got there, Elizaveta was doing a folk dance with a stranger and you were passed out. I think that qualifies as losing, mon copain."

Gilbert wiped his mouth and glared at France. "That doesn't leave this room," he said aggressively. "Of course not, Gilbert!" Francis laughed. Gilbert sighed in relief and got up to rinse out his mouth. Francis couldn't help but grin as he contemplated the fact that Elizaveta made no such promise as the one he just made to Gilbert.

* * *

**A/N: WOW that was fun to write! All of it, I loved it! :D tell me what you think, please! Love you guys!**

**Roxy**


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